it's always a good time!
by Del'Mareve
Summary: Butters and Clyde. Clyde and Butters. They go together like peanut-butter and jelly! Mostly. And this is a story about friendship! Well, you know. *Mostly.* Butters loves Kenny, Clyde loves Butters, Kenny just wants to live his life and Kevin Stoley? He hates everyone.
1. 1

**it's always a good time! **

**Summary:** Butters and Clyde. Clyde and Butters. They go together like peanut-butter and jelly! Mostly. And this is a story about friendship!

Well, you know. Mostly.

_author's **Note**_: Hello everyone. This story started off as something quite simple and cute, and quickly evolved into something more. I'm quite proud of it, so it would mean a lot to me if you left me a review telling me what you think. Thanks! Hope you enjoy.

I don't own South Park.

* * *

Clyde is sitting on his front lawn, sobbing uncontrollably, as Butters is heading home from school one day.

The brown-haired boy had his knees drawn up to his chest and his face buried in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking with the effort of holding back his tears. Butters's brisk, cheerful walk slowed to a crawl, then a full-on stop as he took in the pathetic sight, the tune he'd been humming dying somewhere in his throat.

"Lu luuu...oh. _Oh_."

Butters studied Clyde from across the street, feeling understandably awkward. The thing about Clyde was, he was _always _crying. It was a rarely spoken of but well understood fact that Clyde Donovan was the biggest crybaby in South Park, and had been so ever since elementary school. To be perfectly honest, Butters thought it was kind of _hilarious_. Clyde Donovan had spent _years _styling himself as a stereotypical jock in a veritable crisis of self-image - and who could blame him? What guy in their right mind wanted to be known as the second fattest kid in class next to _Cartman _for goodness' sake?

_Nobody_, that's who.

Clyde may have been tall and good-looking and built like a linebacker, but he was the most _emotional _guy Butters had ever met. What was worse, he was always trying to cover up his emotional side by acting tougher and braver and smarter than he was - which would have been fine if Clyde had known how to convincingly fake _any _of those things. In short, Clyde was kind of an idiot. Butters couldn't say he knew the brown-haired boy very well. The circles they ran in were so far removed they might as well have been inhabiting two completely different planets. Even if Butters had wanted to be friends (not likely), Clyde probably would have rejected him. He didn't even have to ask to know he wasn't nearly popular enough to hang out with Clyde Donovan, crybaby wannabe cool-kid or not.

Butters shuffled his feet for a moment, then adjusted the straps on his tote bag before turning away from the whole thing. It was none of his business anyway; who _cared _what Clyde was crying about...but he had barely gone five steps before he glanced back for another look, anxiously biting his lip. Clyde just looked so...so _lost _sitting here, so sad and alone. Butters's compassion got the best of him, like it _always _did. Even idiots like Clyde needed someone to reach out to them in a moment of despair, and it had been a while since Butters had seen someone so despairing. With that thought in mind, Butters found himself crossing the street to the Donovan house, approaching Clyde like he would a frightened and wounded animal.

Butters stopped five feet away from the boy, nervously bumping his knuckles together. "Wuh-uh...um. H-hey. Clyde. Um…"

Clyde stiffened, then jerked his head up. Butters found himself looking frozenly down into the other boy's tear streaked face, wondering what he'd just gotten himself into. Clyde's nose was packed and runny with snot, one eye was swollen shut, and his face was smeared with dirt, blood and bruises.

"_Clyde_? For gosh-sakes, wuh'_happened_?" Butters asked, his aquamarine eyes huge with alarm. Clyde just shook his head miserably, his bottom lip wobbling. Butters dropped down in the grass next to him and reached out to lay a comforting hand on the other boy's shoulder, but Clyde just snatched himself away, wiping his nose with the back of one shaking hand.

"It's nothin'. Go away," Clyde muttered, but Butters could see a fresh set of tears threatening to overspill his tired, pain-filled hazel eyes. Butters frowned, his chin jutting with determination.

"Nuh-now you see here Clyde! It _can't _be nothin', 'cause you look like shit!" Butters said, trying to to reasonable. He looked around, noting Clyde's bike laying on its side in the driveway. One wheel was badly bent, spinning drunkenly in the breeze with a soft screeching sound. "Did you get hit by a car or somethin'?" he guessed, looking back up at Clyde. If Butters had gotten hit by a car, he might be inclined to cry on his front lawn, too. It didn't really explain why Clyde hadn't gone inside his _house_ first, but everyone knew he could be pretty stupid; Clyde wasn't always capable of making common sense decisions.

Clyde shuddered, his face reddening. "No."

"Did you fall down? 'Cause that turn on Elm Street's a _real _killer. You really gotta slow down or you'll slide somethin' fierce -"

"No!" Clyde shouted.

"Well, then _what_?" Butters demanded, starting to get a little tired of guessing. If he wasn't home in the next fifteen minutes he'd get grounded, and Clyde was making it awfully hard to be nice with his stubbornness. "Did you get into a _fight_?"

Clyde flushed, and the tears in his hazel eyes finally broke free and rolled silently down his filthy cheeks. The brown-haired boy lets out a sob, then another, hastily pressing the torn sleeve of his red letterman jacket to his face. Clyde looked embarrassed, like he didn't want Butters to see him like this - but he also looked like he didn't give a _fuck _who saw him in this moment. The hurt and exhaustion in his eyes was plain.

_So, he did get into a fight_, Butters thought, studying Clyde sympathetically. The brown-haired boy's reaction was all the proof he needed. Sighing, Butters stepped forward, and carefully, oh so _carefully_, wrapped his arms around the bigger boy.

"There, there," Butters murmured soothingly, patting Clyde's back. "It'll be okay. Whoever beat you up, they're jus' _jerks_, you know." Even though he didn't know, not really. For all he knew, Clyde could have _deserved _this ass-whooping. Still, he looked so broken up Butters couldn't help but try to cheer him up as best he could.

Clyde went stiff in Butters's arms, clearly shocked, but after a moment he kind of _melted _into the smaller boy's embrace, still sniffling.

"Uh...um," Butters murmured nervously when he felt Clyde's strong arms go around his shoulders. Butters had meant for this to be a quick hug, onetwothreefourfive and then _let go_, but it was quickly slipping into the _awkward _zone. He tried to wriggle delicately out of Clyde's embrace, but the boy had a grip like iron, and Butters was so much smaller and skinnier in comparison. He looked around, feeling horribly self-conscious now, but the street was empty. _Thank God_, Butters thought, _'cause this doesn't look odd at all, no siree. _

Clyde didn't seem to care how they looked. At all. He was holding Butters like the small boy was his lifeline, his one and only friend, squeezing the air out of him._ Gross, he's getting snot on my sweater! _Butters thought, struggling a little harder now. "Uh Clyde? This is...uh, real touchin' an' all, but if I don't get home soon I'll get grounded an' if someone sees us huggin' like this they jus' might get the wrong impression...Clyde? _Clyde_?"

"Oh!" Clyde dropped Butters and stepped away, looking guilty, as if he'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't have. Finally free, Butters took a deep breath, futilely wiping Clyde's snot off his sweater with a slightly disgusted expression. "I'm sorry, really. I didn't mean to...do that." Clyde muttered, kicking anxiously at an imaginary something at his feet. "I'm _real _sorry! Please Butters, don't tell anyone about this..."

"Now why would I go an' do a thing like that?" Butters asked, grinning. "An' you don't have to feel embarrassed or nothin', everybody needs a hug sometimes!"

"Y-yeah," Clyde agreed softly, a tiny little smile finally breaking across his face. "Thanks."

"No problem-o!" Butters chirped, adjusting his tote bag once again. "You should probably head inside now an' get some ice on that eye if you wanna be seein' out of it tomorrow."

Once again Clyde flushed with embarrassment, closing and opening his battered hands. "I...can't. I lost my house key somewhere. And my Dad won't be home for another two hours…"

"Oh." _So that explains it. _Butters cocked his head curiously at the fidgeting brown-haired boy, trying to remember when was the last time he's seen Clyde look so vulnerable. It was messed up, but he preferred this Clyde to the flashy douchebag loudly showing off in school. Butters checked his watch. He _really_ needed to be getting home, but Clyde was giving him a funny look, part cringing and part stupidly hopeful, like a stray dog silently begging you to take it home. Butters sighed inwardly. _Curse _his soft heart.

"Well, you better jus' come with me over to my house," Butters offered, smiling encouragingly at Clyde. "You can clean up a little an' wait for your parents there."

"Really?" Clyde _beamed_, wincing a little with his split lip. "Thanks Butters, you're the best!"

"Aw, it's nothin'," Butters said, rubbing the back of his neck. Praise always made him feel a little squirmy inside, happy and self-conscious all at once. "But we better hurry, I don't wanna get grounded."

Clyde nodded, and together they walked off down the street. Clyde is limping a little and Butters is back to humming his merry tune.

Little did he know, this would be the start of a sticky situation.


	2. 2

**2.**

* * *

Butters set his tote bag down and cheerfully invited Clyde to have a seat anywhere he liked while he raced upstairs. When he returned a few moments later, Clyde was sitting at the kitchen table, stiff and uncomfortable, awkwardly trying to wipe the dried blood from his face and succeeding only in making himself look worse. Clyde glanced warily up at Butters, looking as if he had no idea what to say to the small blonde boy, but Butters only smiled at him, triumphantly plopping down a first-aid kit taken from an upstairs closet.

"It feels weird, huh?" Butters began conversationally as he dug around inside the kit for hydrogen peroxide and band-aids. Clyde's dark brows furrowed over his hazel eyes; the question had clearly confused him.

"_What_ feels weird?" Clyde mumbled, his nasally voice sounding even thicker with his stuffed nose.

"Why, visitin' a stranger's house!" Butters clarified. "It always feels weird when you're at someone's house for the first time, y'know? But you jus' go right ahead an' relax. My parents won't be home for another hour, an' after you get all cleaned up, maybe we can watch some TV!"

"One, you're not a stranger, I've kinda known you since the fourth grade. Two, I've been over your house before, Butters. And three...why'd you have to hurry home if your parents won't even be here for another hour?"

Butters's brows knit together, his youthful features set in his most serious expression. "If my parents want me home by four, then _gosh-darnit_, I'll be home by four!"

"Dude, they wouldn't even know…"

"_Jesus_ would know."

Clyde thought about that for a moment...but he couldn't really argue Butters's point. "I...guess?"

"He _would_. 'Sides, how could I live with myself, knowin' I lied to my parents?" Butters paused, then gave Clyde a quizzical look. "Yuh-you've been over my house before? Are you sure?"

Clyde shrugged. "_Pretty_ sure, yo." He wasn't sure at all.

"Huh! Well I'll be..." Butters thought for a moment, trying hard to remember a time when Clyde had ever been over his house. He couldn't recall a single instance. _It was probably a really long time ago._ "Well...welcome back, I guess!" Butters chirped, plowing right along with cheerful determination. '"Hold your head up, okay?"

Clyde's eyes went wide. "H-hey man, I can do it! I'm not a _baby_," he insisted, firmly holding his hand out for the towel Butters had soaked in peroxide. Butters just smiled at him patiently, as if he were a child throwing a temper tantrum. Clyde felt a flutter of annoyance, and started to snatch the towel right out of Butters's hands.

"Nuh-uh, it'll be faster if you just let me do it!" Butters insisted, shifting out of reach. "I ain't gonna _hurt _you or nothin', I promise."

"Dude, I'm not worried about _that_." Clyde groaned, his shoulders slumping. "Look, it's been kind've a rough fucking day, so I'd like to hold on to the last few scraps of dignity I have left, _okay_?"

"_Dignity_?" Butters repeated, incredulous. "Look, I'm not tryin' to pick a fight or...or nothin', but you were weepin' on your front lawn like a little girl. I hate to break it to you, buh-but dignity's pretty much out the door at this point."

"I wasn't _weeping_!" Clyde shouted, incensed.

Butters arched a blonde eyebrow.

"I'll have you know I had everything under control, dude! I was just. Just. Resting, _fuck_. Yeah that's it. Kicking ass is hard work, okay?! I was finding my quiet place, yo. Getting centered. All the dumb new-age shit Tweak talks about, and...yeah." Clyde rubbed the back of his neck, glancing self-consciously off to the side.

"Ahh...uh-huh. Restin'. S-so that bear hug earlier, was that you findin' your center, or…?"

"Dude, _shut up_!" Clyde glared daggers at Butters, but he just didn't have enough energy to get truly pissed off. Butters was clearly just trying to help, even if he was being a little _smart-ass_ about it. He sighed and then leaned back, trying not to pout. He was too fucking _cool _to pout, fuck!

"Psh, _fiiinneee_. Whatever. See if I care!"

"Wuh-well, you should care!" Butters replied, in his soft, stuttery voice, "What if some of these cuts get all infected? Then you'll be wishin' you'd followed proper first-aid procedures!"

Clyde groaned again, rolling his hazel eyes up to the heavens. "_Dude_...just get on with it!"

Butters nodded, brandishing his towel with strangely motherly efficiency. The blonde boy hummed to himself as he cleaned Clyde's face, carefully applying band-aids.

"Where'd you learn to do this stuff?" Clyde muttered, an embarrassed flush creeping across his face.

"I used to do Boy Scouts back in Virginia." Butters replied absentmindedly. Most of the cuts on Clyde's face had been pretty minor once he'd cleaned away the dirt (and tears). The only thing left to tackle was the nasty scrape above Clyde's badly swollen left eye. Butters gently applied more peroxide. "First-Aid is one of the merit badges!" Butters said proudly. "I was my squad's medic. You ain't exactly hurt bad, though, just some cuts and bruises…" Butters lowered his voice to a barely-audible mutter. "...wounded pride..."

"What was that?!"

"Nothin'."

Clyde squinted suspiciously up at Butters, as if narrowing his eyes was all it took to help him see through the lies. Butters remained the very picture of innocence, but Clyde just kept squinting at him anyway. "_Virginia_? I thought you were from _Hawaii_, dude." _Haha, got him now. Damn, I'm amazing. _

"I was _born _in Hawaii. I grew up in Virginia before we moved to South Park," Butters corrected calmly. "My Grandma still lives there! We used to fly out to visit her in the summertime, buh-but she got a touch of Alzheimer's an' took a frying pan upside Mom's head one time -"

"Virginia, huh?" Clyde interrupted, rolling his eyes. He'd forgotten how much Butters could run his mouth. Well, technically he never actually _knew _Butters was so chatty. He didn't exactly go around having deep, meaningful conversations with people, least of all Butters Stotch.

"Yup! Can'tcha tell from the way I talk?" Butters asked, glancing hopefully down at Clyde. Clyde returned Butters's look with one that was utterly blank.

"Your...stutter?" Clyde guessed after a moment. Shit, he didn't know.

"Nuh-no! Not that. My _accent_." Clyde blinked. "_Southern_?" Butters added. Clyde shrugged as if he hadn't noticed. Butters gently pressed the last band-aid to Clyde's face and stepped away, frowning. "Suh-stutters aren't a regional thing, Clyde."

"Well I don't know, dude!" Clyde reached up to touch his clean and freshly bandaged face. It still hurt a little, but the pain was nowhere near as bad as before. He smiled brightly, deciding then and there to forgive Butters for his smart-ass comments. "Wow...thanks man!"

Butters shrugged off the praise. "How'd you get into a fight, anyways?"

Clyde's smile wavered, and a dark look flashed briefly in his hazel eyes. The brown-haired boy folded his arms across his chest, sighing dramatically. "I don't wanna talk about it…"

"Oh. Okay." Butters shrugged again, cleared the table of first aid supplies. and headed for the fridge. Clyde watched him with his mouth dangling open. "Wanna popsicle?" Butters asked over his shoulder.

"Dude!" Clyde leaned forward, honestly offended. "You're supposed to, like, _care _more about this! Try to drag the story out of me, or something!" Clyde paused to let out an aggravated sigh, before continuing at the same emotional level, "Yes I'll have a popsicle, thank you very much!"

"Well, I don't believe in pryin' in other people's business!" Butters protested, grabbing four popsicles out of the freezer, two for him and two for Clyde. They were the kind you bought in bulk and froze at home, the long sticks with the overly sweet, syrupy flavors. He handed Clyde one red and one blue, while he took the green and the orange. "I figured you'd want to keep this puh-particular shame to yourself."

Clyde grit his teeth. "There wasn't anything shameful about it, alright! I was on a _quest_! A quest for _love, _okay?!" Clyde tore open the first popsicle with his teeth, slurping it down. "Tell me that ain't the coolest, most _metal _shit you've ever heard!"

"A quest for love?" Butters looked Clyde up and down, his expression dubious. "Did...did you _win_?"

"What do _you _think?!"

"Jus' making sure _my _definition of winin' and _your _definition of winin' aren't two completely different things." Butters explained. He rolled his first popsicle between his palms, his fingers going numb and tingly from the cold. Butters liked his pops just on the verge of melting. "So what happened?"

Clyde finished his popsicle instead of answering right away, squeezing the plastic from the bottom to get the last few drops. _Refreshing_. Not quite as refreshing as a crunchy taco with fire sauce, perhaps, but plenty refreshing. While he did that Clyde studied Butters, trying to decide if he could be trusted. He wasn't part of the inner circle - Craig, Kenny, Token and Tweak - but the kid was really fucking _nice_, even Clyde had to admit that. As much as loved Craig and Kenny, they probably would have just made fun of him for being a fucking pussy. Token would have displayed more tact, but he was _terrible _when it came to comforting people, he just got all flustered. And Tweak would have freaked out at the sight of Clyde's bloody face, run around in circles, then lay down in the grass to cry with Clyde for no good reason. Which would have been kind of nice, a real _solidarity _thing, but not at all helpful.

Butters was looking at Clyde with his clear aquamarine eyes, patient and curious, not the least bit judgmental. They were awesome eyes, Clyde decided. The eyes of a _chill _person. The kind of person who wouldn't laugh and would listen sympathetically while you poured your guts out.

"Okay." Clyde said, his tone somber. "I'll tell you."


	3. 3

**3. **

_**and then it turned into a ballroom blitz **_

* * *

Okay, I'll tell you. But don't laugh, alright? _Promise _you won't laugh or nothing!

("I promise." Butters said solemnly, twisting the plastic end off of his popsicle and lapping up the neon-green juice.)

Okay. Right. Ugh, where do I even begin? I know I'm always going on and on in school about how cool, amazing, and - let's face it - fucking sexy I am. I mean, I'm Clyde freakin' Donovan! Good old _Clydey D_. C-to-the-D-man. I'm chill with everyone and everyone's totally chill with me. I'm like that one really awesome relative, you know? That aunt or uncle you don't always get to see, who slips a Benjamin in a card for you when your birthday rolls around. I'm like that feeling you get when you catch your favorite song on the radio. Or like, the first bite of a crunchwrap supreme, yeaahhh. But I'm also _really _humble. People say I'm way too modest, but I can't let all this charm and charisma go to my head, you feel me?

(Butters nodded.)

Chyeah, I'm glad we're on the same page! Okay, so once upon a time, everything was _perfect_. There was me, Craig and Kenny, the _original _three amigos. But we were so fucking badass we created our own gravitational pull, and soon Token and Tweak were submitting applications to be part of the gang. Craig was all 'Nah' 'cause he's an asshole like that, but me and Kenny are equal opportunity employers, you know? And if you thought we were badasses before, you should have fucking _seen _us when Token and Tweak came along. It was _epic_, dude. I mean, what can I say about those guys? They're _more _than friends. I'm not that close to the fam', especially after Mom...you know. Fuck. It's been just me and my old man for a long time. Things would have been pretty fucking lonely if it weren't for those guys. They're the brothers I never had. We're _tight_, yo.

("That sounds real nice, Clyde." Butters piped up, his lips all green and sticky from the syrup.)

It _was _nice. But then, like? I dunno. Things started to change, but it wasn't a _sudden _change or anything dramatic like that. On the outside, we were still close as ever. Are, I mean, we _are _still close. We still do the same dumb shit...we just do less of it, now. In the good old days, not a week would go by when we weren't all hanging out, or over someone's house. Token's house is _incredible_. He has a pool in his backyard, and like, every game system ever made. I used to knock over mailboxes with Craig or set dead cats on fire with Kenny -

("Wuh-_what_?! T-that's gross!")

No dude, you don't understand. It was _awesome_.

("So what changed?")

That's just the thing! I don't really know. I mean...I guess I first noticed things were a little different after Craig hooked up with Tweak. I was super fucking happy for them. You could see they liked each other from a mile away, even though we practically had to lock them in Craig's room for them to realize the mutual attraction thing they had going on. I thought I'd be more bummed out 'cause I used to have a huge thing for Craig -

(Butters nearly choked on the last bit of his popsicle. "Yuh-you have a crush on Craig?!" he squeaked.)

Used to. I _used _to have a crush on him._ Past tense_. Jesus man, pay attention!

(" 'm sorry. I'm listenin'!" Butters licked his lips, which were now a lurid bright green. He reaches for his orange popsicle, half-melted in its clear plastic tube. "I'm just...surprised, is all.")

Nah, it's fine. I guess it _is _pretty surprising. I mean, I didn't realize I had those kinds of feelings for a _really _long time, and when I did it was like...Craig's one of my best friends, you know? I didn't think it was worth ruining what we had over a stupid crush I wasn't even sure was a crush, or me just being confused and horny. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm _one million percent _sure Craig never felt that way about me. Plus, him and Tweak are _perfect _for each other. I was _never _all 'woe is me, my crush likes someone else, boo-hoo-hoo'. What kind of crap is _that_, seriously? I cared too much about them both as friends to be jealous over something like that. They're both happy and that's all that matters to me. If anyone tries to mess with my friends I'll karate chop them in the fucking throat.

("You're a real good friend, Clyde." Butters said, smiling.)

Thanks! 'Sides, even though nothing ever happened between me and Craig, it helped me figure out a lot of stuff about myself. I mean, girls are _awesome_. They're soft and they smell good, and, _and_! We can't forget those all-important _titties, _amirite? Guys are pretty awesome too, though. _Everyone's_ really, really awesome. Clydey D doesn't discriminate _or _player-hate!

(Clyde waggled his eyebrows at Butters, grinning. Butters just looked at him and kind of giggled, really _giggled_. Clyde didn't think he'd ever seen a boy giggle, and it was pretty cute.)

Anyway, where I was I? Oh yeah. So Craig and Tweak are an item now. Tweak even got Craig a job working at his Dad's coffee shop. Token and Nicole are practically _engaged_, and Kenny's been so busy working his ass off to pay for the apartment he got for him and his little sister Karen that I hardly ever see him anymore. I look up one day and it's just...me. Hanging out by myself. 'Cept it's been that way for a _while_, and I have no idea where or when we drifted apart. I just wanted to get the gang all together, you know? Like the _good _old days. If I called them up and said I just wanted to hang out though, they'd be all, 'I'm busy' or 'sounds boring' or 'get a _life_, Clyde'. So I had to come up with a good enough reason for us all to go out, y'know? Something _totally _awesome!

(Butters gawked at Clyde, fascinated. Orange syrup dribbled down his popsicle and onto his knuckles, and Butters licked it away carelessly. "What'dya come up with?")

Okay, so, you're gonna love this. The school is having a big Spring Formal next week, right?

(Butters shrugged. He didn't exactly keep up with school functions. "Yeah?")

So I thought, we should _all _go. It would _fucking amazing_, dude! We could all get dressed up and bring dates and dance, and afterward we'll all get totally drunk and faded and hit up a Denny's at like, three in the morning! Only problem is, I don't have a date.

("Wuh-why don't you jus' go, y'know...stag?")

No-can-do. Token would be down, and Kenny's up for anything, but he's never been to a dance before 'cause he doesn't have any formal wear. If I talk to Token about it _first _he'll let Kenny borrow a suit. Hell, he'll let Kenny _have _a suit, he's got a hundred of 'em. Craig doesn't do dances, like, _at all_, but if Token and Kenny go, he'll go for sure. Even if it's just to complain. I've never had a date for...well, _anything_, so if I tell the guys I'm going _and _bringing a date, everyone will _have _to go.

("Buh-but...why haven't you ever had a date for anythin'?")

Jesus, you and your fucking questions! Ugh, okay, okay, so maybe I _exaggerate _my looks and popularity. A _little_. I'm still a _great _catch! I just haven't...found anyone...who thinks so. I mean, so what if the guys all make fun of me for carrying my V-card? I just want someone _special_, alright? I have _high _standards. I want someone good-looking, with a great sense of humor. Someone who laughs at my jokes and likes Adam Sandler movies and will buy me tacos on request and maybe feed them to me, and likes to suck my dick and send me sappy text messages and will give me little head massages, and maybe help me with me with my homework and doesn't mind when I say or do something stupid. I want someone who will treat me like the _prince _I am. That's not too much to ask, is it?

("Errrr…")

Exactly! So I buy my tickets to the Spring Formal in advance, and I go cruising for a date. Let me tell you, that shit's hard work. I mean, how does _anybody _hook up with _anybody_? Everyone I know is getting boinked on the reg, and I'm over here watching _Seinfeld _reruns in my underwear. Life's just not _fair_, man.

("Sooo…did ya find anyone?")

Ech, yes and no. I was chatting up this hottie at the arcade today...she seemed _totally _into me! She was leaning forward, kind've smiling and touching my hand, like. I was just about to ask her out when this dude rolls up on me, talking all kinds of shit. 'Why the fuck are you talking to my girl' and 'get lost' and blahblah_blah_. I'm all like, _seriously_? I respect the fact that's she's your girlfriend or whatever, but you don't have to get so _offended_, dude. And get this! _She_ started talking to _me_ first!

("R-really?")

I _know_, right? But, being the _gentleman _I am, I back away. 'Cept this guy must be a real moron or something, 'cause he's _still _talking shit. So, I do the only _natural _thing anybody would do in this situation, and talk shit right back.

("Ah…")

Yup. So it turns into this whole dumb argument. And I mean _fucking stupid_. I'm no genius or anything, but halfway through I realize this guy doesn't have two brain cells to rub together and arguing with him is a waste of time even for _me_. And _trust _me, I'm a master when it comes to wasting time. So after a while I just laugh and walk away, but the dude just won't take an out. He's cursing loud, calling me all kinds of bitches and faggots and whatever else, but when _that_ doesn't work he leans forward and _shoves _me. I completely lose it at that point. One, this crap was uncalled-for to begin with, and two, I don't care how fucking tough you _think _you are, put your hands on me and there's going to be a major fucking problem.

(Butters pouted, his aquamarine eyes narrowing. "Why do people gotta be so _mean_?")

He shoves me, all smug-like, like he's not expecting me to do anything. So I smile...and punch the _shit_ out of him.

(Butters grinned. "Really?"

Clyde laughed, then winced, forgetting his split lip. "Hell yeah! First punch, dude! That's how I roll, yo!")

So, it's pretty much _on._ I'm not a fighter like Craig; dude can kick almost anyone's ass with one hand tied behind his back. But I'm decent, and pretty fucking pissed at this point, so I get some hits in before the dude's friends get the drop on me. Out of _nowhere_, three or four guys jump me. Dude's girlfriend is screaming, the arcade manager is _freaking out_. The dude's friends drag me out. Then we're in the parking lot and things get... bad.

("Clyde…")

Look. I don't care how badass you are. In the movies, one guy can take on, like, a hundred guys and not get a scratch on him. But this _ain't _the movies, and four-on-one is never good odds. They're kicking me, punching me. It's all I can do to stay on my feet, but even that doesn't last long. One of the fuckers clocks me with one of those retro Coke bottles, y'know, the curvy glass ones? Hence the eye. I'm pretty surprised it didn't cut me worse; dude must've had _shit _aim.

(Butters is horrified. "Yuh-you...you coulda _died_!")

_What_? C'mon dude, no _way _am I going to die from something so lame. Still...I guess it could have been much worse if the arcade manager hadn't run out threatening to call the police. I was on my hands and knees by this point, getting blood all over my letterman jacket. Having a _grand_ old time, lemme tell you. Bless that arcade manager, man. When I get my allowance, I'm going to go back and buy that guy, like, two sodas _and_ a nacho supreme. Thanks to him, the dudes beating me up got distracted long enough for me to get away.

Now, I'd love to say I pulled a kick-ass kung fu flip and told them all to kiss my ass as I tossed down a smoke bomb. That would have been _dope, _yo. But I just...limped to my bike, got on and pedaled away as fast as I could. It was so _boring _it hurts me to admit it. I do flashy _so_ well. I'm like, the _king _of flashy, but...even _I_ can't make getting my ass kicked look flashy.

("Mike Tyson can," Butters said thoughtfully.)

I have never pedaled so hard in my _life_. If this were a cartoon, I would have left smoke in my wake à la Road Runner. I was _almost _home when I hit a fucking rock in the road. A _rock_, dude. It was as if God Himself had rolled up his sleeves, come down from the heavens and whispered, '_Fuck you, Clyde. You just go right ahead and fuck yourself, buddy'_.

I was going so fast I nearly flipped right over the handlebars. As it was, I bent my bike's front tire to hell and back, and had to walk home the rest of the way. When I got there and saw I'd lost my _house key_ on top of everything else, I just kinda...broke down. I guess. Whatever! Just because I tend to cry a lot and...and easily, doesn't make me a _crybaby_, okay?!

"So that's it." Clyde finished, sighing. "That was _my _three-thirty in the afternoon. Pretty exciting, huh? I guess I just have a special effect on people." Clyde sniffed self-importantly, leaning back in his chair. "So. How are _you_?"

"Fine." Butters answered, perfectly serious. "Jus' takin' care of you an' all."

Clyde blinked. For some reason, he could feel a blush creeping across his face. Butters had a way of answering everything so stupidly _earnestly_, like everything was to be taken seriously and paid the utmost attention to. Clyde coughed a little, glancing away from the concern in Butters's kind eyes. "Er, besides that."

"I gotta question."

"Yeah?"

"If you didn't have a date, why'd you buy your tickets to the dance in _advance_?"

Clyde scowled. "I'm an _optimist_, dude! So _sue _me! I didn't think there'd be so many people in this town who wouldn't know a good thing when it was staring them right in the face!"

Butters gulped down the last corner of orange syrup in his popsicle, now completely melted. The sweetness was a little much by now, but he needed it to help him digest Clyde's logic. "So, uh, wuh-what are you gonna do now? Are you still gonna try to find a date?"

"Heck yeah! I already have the tickets, and I'm not giving up on my plan! _Fuck _that shit." Clyde replied passionately. "This plan is too awesome to give up on, minor setbacks aside!"

"Y-yeah, but..."

"Dude. When I see something I want, I'm like a homing missile shot from an F-14 of pure, unadulterated awesomeness." Clyde said, smiling bright enough to light up the room. "This is really, really important to me. I mean c'mon, what else could _possibly _go wrong?"


	4. 4

**4.**

* * *

"Well...I hope ya find a date soon." Butters says, hopping up from the kitchen table to poke his head inside the pantry. Clyde could hear him rummaging around, shifting cereal boxes and canned goods.

"I'm not worried, dude." Clyde replies with an easy, confident shrug. "I'll have a date in two, three days, _tops_! All I gotta do is flash the guns, hit 'em with the smile, let 'em see the style, and _boom_! Easy peasy."

Butters giggled again, cheerful but soft, as if he were trying to hold himself back from _really _letting loose. Clyde wasn't sure if Butters was laughing _with _him or _at _him, but just hearing it was so adorable he didn't really mind either way.

"Wanna sandwich?" Butters asked, backing out of the pantry with jars of peanut-butter and grape jelly. Clyde grinned, nodding eagerly.

"Yeah man! Thanks!" If there was anything Clyde loved more than himself and Playboy magazines, it was food. He _adored _food, and could always find room in his belly for a little more, even if he'd already eaten. It was no wonder he'd been the second fattest kid in school growing up. Unlike Cartman however, Clyde actually enjoyed regular exercise, and had turned most of his fat to muscle by the time he hit high school. _Most _of it. Clyde still had a bit of a gut, but hey, just more of him to love, right?

"Why don'tcha jus' ask someone you already know?" Butters asked as he was slathering up slices of bread with generous portions of chunky peanut butter and Smucker's grape jelly, "Like Bebe? Yuh-you could ask her."

"I could, but..._nah_, it wouldn't be the _saaameee._" Clyde whined, dramatically windmilling his arms. "If I were just going to ask a friend I'd ask _Kenny_. No, it _has _to be special. It has to be an actual-factual _date_."

Butters handed him a PB&J in a paper towel, and Clyde immediately took a huge, enthusiastic bite. "Ohmygoddude," he mumbled around a mouthful, "thisislike - " belatedly remembering that most people _swallowed _their food before they spoke, Clyde finished chewing and whispered reverently, "- the _best _fucking peanut-butter and jelly sandwich I have _ever _had. Seriously. You have the _perfect _ratio of peanut-butter-to-jelly-to-bread. You even cut the _crusts _off and everything! Dude...I think I love you a little."

Butters laughed, snorting. "Aw shucks, it ain't nothin' too special, really."

Clyde would have heartily disagreed if he hadn't been so busy stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. He finished it in about a minute, and was busy licking jelly off his fingers when Butters handed him another. As spectacularly awful as this day had been, Clyde could just about have died from happiness in that moment.

Clyde was halfway through his second sandwich and Butters had just taken a bite out of his first when the Stotch's front door opened and a woman's voice called, "Are you home, son?"

"In here, Mom!" Butters called back.

_Aw crap, Butters's parents are home, _Clyde thought, as he shoved the entire last corner of his sandwich into his mouth. For some reason, Clyde always got incredibly nervous around other people's parents, as if he were about to be put on some kind trial that would determine whether or not he was good enough to hang around their children. It was the 'He-seems-like-a-nice-kid' or 'I-don't-want-to-see-you-hanging-around-a-loser-like-him' Trial, and Clyde always felt _horribly _unprepared.

Today was no exception. There was blood on his jacket, his jeans were dirty, his eye was swollen, his face was covered in band-aids and he had a mouth full of half-chewed PB&J when Linda and Stephen Stotch bustled into the kitchen, Linda with an armful of groceries and Stephen with the mail. They both stopped short when they saw Clyde, their expressions fixed in glassy-eyed, tight little grimaces of politeness. Butters didn't seem to think there was anything awkward about this at all, because he automatically slid forward to help his Mom with the groceries.

"Hi Mom." Butters greeted cheerfully, planting a kiss on his mother's cheek. "Hi Dad!"

"Afternoon, champ!" Stephen said, glancing warily between his son and Clyde. "Who's your friend?"

"This is - "

"Mmg mmphgm," _Fucking delicious PB&J! _Clyde swallowed, choked a little, and coughed, scattering bread crumbs all over the kitchen table. _Fucking hell._ "Um, sorry," Clyde said with a nervous little laugh, standing up and wiping his hands on his filthy jeans. "Uh, I'm Clyde. Clyde Donovan. S'nice to met you."

"Donovan?" Linda repeated softly, confused, before her small, pretty face lit up with recognition, "Ah, yes! I do believe I remember you, dear. How's your father been?"

"He's good, he's good." Clyde said, nodding emphatically. "You know, just uh…" When he couldn't think of a single thing to add to that, Clyde added lamely, "...good."

"That's wonderful, dear." Linda said, smiling just a little too broadly.

"And, and your mother?" Stephen asked, cluelessly following his wife's lead.

Butters blanched. Clyde just shook his head and smiled ruefully. This wasn't the first time someone had asked him about his Mom, forgetting her...untimely demise. Answering those questions used to suck hard, but Clyde was more or less used to it by now.

"She's still dead." Clyde replied amiably, watching as Stephen and Linda's smiles curled up and died on their faces.

"Uh...wha…"

"Yep. It was a real pain, flushing her internal organs out of the pipes."

A thick, awkward silence descended over the Stotch kitchen. The kind of silence that gives you time to reflect on your life choices. _Butters looks like his Mom_, Clyde mused. They both had fine blonde hair, smooth fair skin, bright blue eyes and small, slender builds. Stephen Stotch was tall, with brown hair and dark eyes. Perhaps Clyde was taking note of the family resemblance because all three were wearing identical expressions of horror. _God, I suck at first impressions._

"I...I'm so sorry, dear." Linda said, shooting her husband a deeply concerned glance.

"Gosh, I...I didn't mean…" Stephen stammered.

"It's fine! Really, it's cool! It was a joke. Well, not the flushing out her organs part...that really happened." _Fuck, I better leave before they call the cops. _

"Butters!" Linda cried, whirling on her son. "Did you really fix your friend a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich?"

Butters blinked. "Uh...yuh-yeah?"

"How _could _you? That isn't nearly good enough, he's your _guest_!"

"No, it was good," Clyde said, his hazel eyes glazing over with the memory, "it was like, the best peanut-butter and jelly sandwich ever!"

"Nonsense." Linda swept forward, smiling as if absolutely nothing had gone wrong here. "Why don't you boys go watch some TV while I whip together a chicken salad?"

"Your mother's right, Butters! Where your hospitality?" Stephen scolded lightly, smiling at the thoroughly confused teens. "You boys just run along, go on now."

Linda waited until she heard Butters turn the TV on the living room before she reached out to take her husband's hands, her eyes shining with joy.

"Could it be?" she whispered.

"Is this a dream?" Stephen murmured. "Oh Linda, _pinch_ me."

"Our Butters brought home a friend!"

"And for once, he's not Eric Cartman!" Stephen whispered excitedly, squeezing his wife's hands. "I mean, our boy is with him so much...I was_ so worried…_"

"I know, dear, I know. It's over now." Linda hissed, her lips trembling. "It's over."

"No, Linda. We have to be _sure_." Stephen's tone was firm. "We _have _to be _sure_!"

"...my parents are actin' really weird," Butters remarked dryly, glancing back at the kitchen, where a lot of loud whispering was going on.

"Your parents seem pretty cool." Clyde plopped down in front of the television. "Yo, got any movies?"

"U-um...did ya _really _have to bring up your Mom's internal organs?"

"Dude, I get _nervous _talking to people's parents, plus I was sort've put on the spot! I'm _sorry _you can't handle my honesty, but Clydey D keeps it real."

"Butters, for heaven's sake!"

"Wuh-_wha_?" Butters cried, wondering what he'd done wrong now. His mother was standing in the living room doorway, hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Don't you have a television in your _room_, mister? Why don't you take your friend upstairs? It'll be a lot quieter, and you can show him your collections."

Butters gawked at his mother, mystified. "Buh-but…"

"_Leopold Stotch_." Linda said warningly, cutting off her son's objections. "Take Clyde and show him your _room. _The chicken salad will be ready in a few."

Butters shot Clyde a helpless glance, but the brown-haired boy just shrugged. Butters liked to think he was pretty good at reading his parents, but they were acting so strangely he had no idea _what _was going on. It was as if someone had changed the rules mid-game and then abandoned him to figure them out as he went along. _Aw, hamburgers. _

"Um...wanna...see my room...Clyde?" Butters asked, his cheeks flushing.

Clyde grinned, and Butters couldn't tell if it was because he was oblivious, or just didn't care. "Sure, dude. Lead the way."

* * *

"So...welcome to my room."

Butters opened a door on the far left and motioned for Clyde to come on in. The blonde-haired boy looked a little flustered, as if he was embarrassed about something, or perhaps just not used to having anyone in his room. Clyde had no idea why Butters seemed so nervous; out of all his friends this was easily the second nicest bedroom he'd ever been in. _Second _nicest because nothing topped Token's room, but Butters had a comfortable, homey feel to his place that Token lacked. Clyde was always scared to touch anything in Token's room. A useless-looking knickknack could turn out to be a $500 dollar collectible imported from Italy, and guess what? _You _just ruined it.

"Whoa, your room makes my room look like a pigsty." It was true. Clyde's room was a _mess_. He kept piles of dirty clothes on the floor, his bed was always unmade, he had three-month-old pizza boxes stashed in the closet and dirty magazines under the bed, and the drawers perpetually looked as if someone had ransacked them because Clyde never bothered to fold, close or put anything away. He knew where everything was anyway, so what was the point?

Butters's room looked as if it had come straight out of a home magazine. The walls were painted dark blue, with a light green accent color for the ceiling (accent colors! Clyde's mind was blown). There were pictures on the walls - not just posters slapped on with tape like Clyde had - but cool paintings of the ocean and mountains. Butters had a desk in one corner, with computer set up in neat order. A TV rested on a stand on the other side of the room, next to a bookcase practically overflowing with books (duh) but also DVDs and little action figures. Butters didn't keep soda cans and empty water bottles on his drawers like Clyde did. The only thing sitting up there was a lamp and a big hamster cage, with two or three of the cute little critters running around inside. It was nice, Clyde decided. Butters had the kind of room that made you want to curl up on the bed and watch TV or read something - but since Clyde didn't actually read _books_, in his case it would be the latest Deadpool comic or Maxim Magazine.

Clyde flopped carelessly down on Butters's bed. He had this quilt-type thing on top which looked like something his Grandmother had knitted twenty years ago (it was_ absurdly comfortable_), and smiley-face sheets.

Clyde was just starting to get comfortable when Butters's piped up dryly from his hamster cage, "Do you always hop on people's beds without askin'?"

Clyde flushed. His manners were terrible, and years of hanging out with the likes of Craig and Kenny hadn't improved them. Still, he should have known better than this. "Heh, sorry dude...force of habit." He moved to sit on the floor, but Butters laughed, waving his arms in a _no-no-no-you-misunderstood-me_ kind of way.

"Aw Clyde, I was jus' kiddin'!" Butters said, still laughing, except it wasn't really a laugh, more like a _giggle-snort_, "You can sit on my bed if you want! I don't mind, I was jus' yankin' your chain."

"Oh. Heh." Gosh, it was hard to tell. Butters had sounded so serious a moment ago Clyde was sure he'd offended him. _Kid's a scary good actor_. "Thanks," Clyde said, settling a little uneasily back on the bed, "uh, sorry anyway. I probably should have asked first."

"Why?" Butters asked, genuinely curious, "I don't mind at all. Y'can even lay down, if you want."

_Most people would feel kind of funny about inviting someone they hardly know to lay down on their beds,_ Clyde almost pointed out, but he just shrugged, smiled, and reached for the remote. Clyde clicked absently through the channels, but it was Butters he was really paying attention to. The blonde-haired boy was feeding his hamsters, all while smiling and kind of murmuring to them. _Cute_. After a moment Clyde stood up to peek over Butters's shoulder, trying hard not to be intrusive. Probably failing. Clyde did _obnoxious _better than he did _unobtrusive_, even when he was trying not to be. If Butters was bothered by his presence at all though, he gave no sign.

"Wanna pet one?" Butters asked, reaching excitedly inside the cage to scoop up a hamster. He holds the wriggling creature out for Clyde to take.

"Oh, man, I..." _Couldn't_, was what he wanted to say, but dude! Hamsters! "Heck yes." Clyde said, gently taking Butters's furry little pet. "Aww, neat."

"This one's name is Natural Disaster." Butters said happily. "And the brown one is Chaos Jr and the white one is -"

"Butters. Okay dude, I gotta ask a question. A super-serious, _totally _important question." Clyde said. Natural Disaster had climbed up to his arm to his shoulder, and Clyde gently places him (her?) back in the cage.

"Yuh-yeah?"

"Dude, you are like...the nicest person I've ever met. Like ever. You're nicer than a Raisins girl hustling for tips." Clyde said, shaking his head. "So I guess I just gotta know..._why_?"

"Why?" Butters laughed, that _giggle-snort giggle-snort_ that was so damned geeky and utterly adorable at the same time. Clyde wanted to punch him. Or possibly give him a kiss, _then _punch him. "Why am I so _nice_? What kinda question is that?"

"Dude, like I said, a super-serious totally _important _question."

"W-well, I dunno. I mean, do I have to have a _reason _to be nice to people?" Butters asked, his expression faintly amused.

"Well, no. It's just..." Clyde shrugged, he hated explaining himself. "Nah, just forget it. I don't even know."

"It's karma." Butters said, stepping away from the hamster cage to plop down on his desk chair. Clyde raised a brow.

"Karma?"

"Well, yeah! Karma is like...you do nice things for people, or for the world, and nice things will happen for you." Butters tried to swivel in his chair, but he was clearly having trouble building maximum swiveling momentum, so Clyde went over and gave his chair a good shove. Butters spun around and around, giggling.

"I believe in karma a lot." Butters said went he slowed down. "What you put out comes back to you, so I only want to put out good things."

"Huh." Clyde scratched his chin thoughtfully. "That's some pretty deep shit, dude. So by that logic, Cartman's in for it _big _one day."

"Aw, Eric's not so bad."

Clyde's eyes practically bugged out of his head at that. Did Butters just say _Eric Cartman_ was _not so bad_? A controversial point of view like that demanded an explanation, but Butters was already chatting away.

"I want to make sure I have lots of good karma saved up, so when I become a doctor I'll be able to help lots of people -"

"A _doctor_?" Clyde spluttered. "You want to become a _doctor_?"

Butters beamed. "Yup!"

"Dude, not even _Wendy _wants to become a doctor, and she's like, a genius! Wendy's going that whole..._environmental science_ route."

"I think Wendy's lost her faith in humanity hangin' around Stan and Eric too much," Butters replied, giggling again. "She would destroy all human society to save the rainforests. But I really like people an' I want to help them feel good."

"A doctor…" Clyde breathed, awestruck. None of his friends had such lofty aspirations. "Dude. I'm fucking impressed."

"When I become a doctor, it's gonna be so awesome!" Butters said, his aquamarine eyes shining, "When someone says, '_help! is there a doctor in the house_?!' I can be all, '_y-yeah there's a doctor in the house_'! An' I can introduce myself as _Doctor Leopold Stotch_." Butters puffed his chest out, grinning. "_Doctor_ Stotch, MD, Ph.D!"

Clyde was grinning too. "Hello _laaaadies_. I'm Doctor Stotch. Why yes, that _is _a BMW I'm driving. You should really see my other car, though. Drink?"

"Yuh-huh!" Butters bounced in his seat, then leaned forward, regarding Clyde eagerly, "What d'you wanna do when you grow up, Clyde?"

"Aww, dude…" Clyde flopped back on Butters's bed, tucking his arms behind his head, "'I have _no _fucking clue. I have, like, zero direction in life. I can't even figure out what I'm going to do _tomorrow_, let alone _career_-wise. Everything seems too boring or too hard."

"Well, whaddya _like _to do?"

"That's just _it_. I like all _kinds _of stuff!" Clyde exclaimed. "I want to, like, become an extreme skateboarder and participate in competitions. But I _really _like music, so I think maybe I want to become a DJ. Or maybe bar tend, or hitchhike around the country having crazy adventures so I can write a kick-ass memoir one day. I want to get all tatted up and become a _roadie_." Clyde snorted, "With my grades I sure as fuck won't be going to college."

"All that sounds really excitin', though!" Butters piped. "I mean, I wish I could do some of that stuff, too."

"No way you mean that, dude. You're going to be a _doctor _one day. With my luck I'll probably be working at a fucking Taco Bell."

"No, really!" Butters got up to lean over Clyde on the bed, his expression serious. Clyde blinked up at him. From this angle Butters completely blocked his line of view, filling the world. Clyde noticed the patterns on the stupid argyle sweater he was wearing, and the fact that his eyes were equal parts blue and green.

"It _does _sound excitin'," Butters repeated firmly, "and you can do whatever you want to do Clyde, don'tcha sell yourself short. I-I mean, you have this Spring Formal thing all figured out an' stuff, right?"

"Right," Clyde muttered, sitting up. "Yeah, about that. I got another question for you. _Total _truth-serum time. What do you think about my whole plan?"

"You-you mean about the dance?"

"Yeah."

"Aw Clyde, I think it's great!" Butters said, without the slightest hesitation.

"Heh. You think so?" When Butters nodded, Clyde exhaled. "Yeah, it _is _pretty brilliant, isn't it? 'Cept…"

"Uh-huh?"

"It's only for that one night, y'know? Then everyone will go back to being too busy to give a crap about me." Clyde's shoulders slumped. "I don't know, dude. I know they're my friends and I know they all still care about me, but…" Clyde could feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, but no, _no, _he was _not _going to fucking _cry_, "everyone's doing things. Big, important..._things_. And those things don't include me and...fuck, why _should _they? I'm such a huge fucking slacker. I just…"

Ugh, Clyde sucked at words. What the _fuck_ was expressing emotion, seriously? He fell silent and angrily began rubbing his eyes. _I'm so fucking stupid. Great, this is the second time today I've fucking cried in front of Butters. _

Clyde felt the bed dip a little as Butters sat down, and a second later the blonde-haired boy lay a comforting hand on Clyde's shoulder. "You jus' don't want to be left behind by your friends an' family." Butters said softly, smiling. Clyde nodded, his mouth gone dry and his throat feeling thick, as if someone had shoved a wad of cotton down his gullet. _Yes, that's it exactly. I don't want to be left behind. I don't want the people I care the most about to slowly forget about me. _Clyde didn't know how Butters was able to figure that out from the garbled string of crap coming out of Clyde's mouth, but he did.

"Your friends won't forget about'cha." Butters said confidently, as it were the simplest fact in the world. Clyde huffed out a laugh.

"Thanks, man." Clyde whispered.

"Wuh-why, you'll have that date in no time, you said so yourself!" Butters actually pumped a fist in the air. "You can it do! C'mon, say it with me!"

"_Seriously_, dude?" Clyde laughed, but Butters just pouted. Then the blonde-haired boy leaned forward, so suddenly Clyde froze, his laughter ending with an abrupt squeak of surprise. Butters narrowed his eyes, his face inches away from Clyde's.

"You don't think I can kick your ass? 'Cause I _can_, y'know." Butters said, his normally high, cheerful voice gone dangerously low and threatening. Clyde's heart actually began to pound. "Now say. It. With. Me. You can _do_ it!"

"I-I…" Clyde licked his lips nervously. "I can...do it…?"

"That's the ticket!" Butters smiled, but it wasn't long before he was giggling, then full-on _laughing_, his arms wrapped around his stomach. "Yuh-you…! You looked suh-so _scared_!" Butters gasped, shaking with mirth, "I-I was jus' _messin' _with you! Can'tcha _tell_? Am I ruh-really that scary?"

Clyde blushed, lightly punching Butters in the shoulder. "Whatever, dude!"

"Heheheh…oh man, suh-sorry." Butters wiped his eyes and stood up. Clyde couldn't help but feel just a tad disappointed Butters wasn't sitting so close anymore.

"Anyway, you can do whatever you set out to do," Butters says, "anythin' at all!"

"Jesus, Mr. Positivity over here." Clyde grumbled, still reeling a bit from Butters's closeness.

"But it's _true_!" Butters insisted.

"Yeah, _yeah_, I get it. So tell me, _Doctor_ Stotch, are _you _going to the Spring Formal?"

Butters flushed. "Er, nuh-no. I don't really do dances an'...stuff."

"Why? Don't you know how to dance?" Clyde teased.

"I can _dance_!" Butters huffed, affronted. "It's jus'...I wouldn't have anyone to _go _with, is all. I'm not exactly the most puh-popular guy in school. I can't flash the guns 'cause I don't have any. Or let 'em see the style 'cause I-I don't have that either. An' -"

"You have a nice smile, though." Clyde interrupted, smirking, and _oh great_, that _totally _didn't sound like he was flirting. Or maybe he _did _mean for it to sound that way. Perhaps Clyde was just so _smooth_ he flirted even when he wasn't trying to. At this point, he honestly didn't know. Either way, Butters flushed, shyly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Look, it's all about _confidence, _dude! Like me!" Clyde said, haughtily jabbing his thumbs at his chest. "You think I give a _shit _people think I have a huge-ass ego? _Fuck _the haters!"

"An' you call _me _Mr. Positivity," Butters said, shaking his head.

"Dude! I mean _socially_. You gotta get out there or life's just gonna pass you by!" Clyde thought a moment, then jumped straight up, breathlessly seizing Butters by the shoulders. "Dude!" he whispered, his hazel eyes wide.

"Wuh-wha...wha?" Butters stammered, wary.

"I just had the most _amazing _idea right now. Like, my own fucking _brilliance_ continues to astound me. Look, hear me out..."


	5. 5

**5.**

_**(my heart in another place)**_

* * *

Butters blinked, wondering if he'd heard Clyde right, or if his brain had just made a fatal translation error. Clyde was studying him with wide, hopeful hazel eyes, eager as a puppy waiting for a treat. Butters opened his mouth to form what he _hoped _would be an intelligent response, but all that emerged was a squeaky little, "E-_eh_?" His face was hot and he felt sticky and sweaty, as if he'd just run four laps around the quad during P.E. Butters didn't need a mirror to know he was blushing profusely, and his heart was tapping out an erratic beat in his chest.

"Aw dude, where's my _manners_?" Clyde grinned and suddenly got down on one knee, reaching up to take Butters's clammy hands in his own. "Okay. So, would you, like, go to the Spring Formal with me?"

"Yuh-you don't have t-to get on one knee to a-ask suh-someone to a duh-dance!" Butters said, anxiously snatching his hands away. He was stammering badly he knew, but he couldn't help it. Butters's stammer was always worse whenever he was feeling extremely nervous - and boy was he _ever _nervous right now, nervous with a side of _flabbergasted_. Clyde just chuckled at his reaction, a deep, rich, _masculine _sound. Butters couldn't help but feel just a tad jealous _he _didn't sound like that when he chuckled, sort of laid-back and confident (...and attractive). Every time he opened his mouth he sounded like a huge fucking dork.

"Dude, I _know_. I'm not _that _fucking corny. I'm just messing with you. _Payback_, by the way!" Clyde replied, smirking.

"O-oh…"

"_Sooo…_" Clyde hedged, his smile warm, charming, "...whaddya say?"

"Um...um…"

"..don't answer all at once or nothin'."

"I jus'...jus'...wuh-why are you askin' _me_?" Butters squeaked, bumping his knuckles together.

Clyde raised a brow, clearly amused. "Dude, why _wouldn't _I ask you?"

"Buh-but…!" Butters's high voice had gone even higher, taking on a distinctly panicky edge, "I-I thought you said you n-needed an actual _date_! Or it wouldn't be _special _an' all!"

"Who says it _wouldn't _be a date, dude?" Clyde asked with a sly grin, giving Butters a ridiculously suggestive eyebrow waggle. On anybody else that would have looked downright creepy, but Clyde managed to pull it off in a way that looked _inviting_. Butters thought he was going to faint.

"Yuh-you wanna go on a _d-date _with me?" he whispered disbelievingly. It was ridiculous. This was a joke, it _had _to be! There was simply no way _Clyde Donovan_ was...was... _I'm gonna wake up any minute now, yeah. _

Clyde sighed, climbing back to his feet to take a seat on Butters's bed. For once, the brown-haired boy was silent. Butters couldn't seem to bring himself to look at him, so he just stared at the scuffed and faded tops of his red Converse sneakers, biting his lip. When the silence began to grate on Butters's already frazzled nerves, he peeked up at the boy sitting on his bed. To his surprise, Clyde was just sort of..._watching_ him, a faint, gentle smile on his face. The brown-haired boy's hazel eyes were soft, his expression playful.

"Okay, so completely honestly and seriously? I know this is _really _sudden after all the shit I was talking earlier, but I _totally _thought about it just now, and I mean _real deep_ thinky-thoughts, dude! And I realized, it's _perfect_!" Clyde leapt up, eyes shining. "The Spring Formal is, like, next week. I still need to get a tux, convince the guys, rent a limo…" Clyde ticked off his fingers, "...keep Tweak from having a nervous breakdown, on top of finding a date. I mean, I'm not saying I _can't _do it, 'cause I probably _could, _I'm just that awesome, but even if I found a date tomorrow I _know _I wouldn't like them as much as I like you. I'm so _positive_, dude!"

Butters fidgeted, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot, "Huh-how could you decide all this in _f-five minutes_?"

Clyde rolled his eyes impatiently. "Dude, how could I _not_?! I don't understand people who take forever to make up their minds about something. Not everything has to be so damn _complicated_! What's the point in sitting back weighing the pros and cons? So maybe things don't always work out, but _who cares_? Why waste time and energy trying to figure out if something is right for me, when I can just _do it _and know immediately? My gut-feelings have never steered me wrong, so why should I start second-guessing them now? 'Cause people who don't even _know _me think it's too soon or I'm being too reckless?"

"I…" Butters fumbled around in his brain for an answer, but it was like opening cabinets in an empty house, he had nothing to say. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to have Clyde's laid-back, all-or-nothing approach to life. Butters's entire existence was defined by rules, timetables and expectations. He never did _anything _spontaneously. Butters _liked _having a plan. He _liked _feeling prepared. Rules were _good_. When there were rules everything made _sense, _and when there weren't any rules Butters felt small and stupid. His parents had taught him _not _to trust his gut-feelings, because gut-feelings were wrong and could get him into trouble. The only people he needed to trust are his Mom and Dad, they'd said so a hundred-thousand times. Why, they only wanted the best for him, and would always steer him down the correct path!

..._Right_?

Butters felt calloused fingers curl under his chin, gently lifting his head. Then Clyde was _right there _(_too close_! a panicked inner-voice shouted), with his hazel eyes like a field of grass in summer, warm and green with just a touch of brown. He was smiling too, and Butters had never noticed it before, but Clyde Donovan smiled like a hero in an action movie, all sparkly and daring. He smiled like he could take on all the bad guys and always save the day and walk slow-mo into the sunset with a beautiful woman on his arm while the world exploded dramatically behind him.

"Earth to Doctor Stotch. _Paging _Doctor Stotch!" Clyde said teasingly, "Dude, I didn't think you'd space out _that _much on my stupid rant. You were biting your lip so hard I thought you'd start _bleeding_."

Butters clapped a hand over his mouth, ashamed. He hadn't meant to get so lost, but Clyde had waltzed in and thrown Butters so completely out of his comfort zone he was having trouble recovering. His bottom lip was _throbbing_, but he didn't remember biting it at all.

"Aw, _geez_…! Thanks." Butters mumbled, self-consciously running his tongue over his lips. Clyde's fingers lingered on his chin, but when Butters began to redden at the contact he snatched his hand away, looking apologetic.

"Heh. Sorry. I didn't know I was still...sorry." Clyde said, and for once _he _was fidgeting. "Look, Butters...I was totally kidding about what I said earlier. It doesn't have to be a date. It haven't have to be _anything_. I just want to take you to the dance because - _because-_"

Clyde paused, looking deeply frustrated, as if he knew what he _wanted _to say and just couldn't find the _right _way to say it. He raked his fingers violently back through his dark brown hair with a hiss of disgust. "Fucking _words_, man, _Jesus_! Okay, do you know that feeling you get when you're going somewhere for the first time? Like, maybe you've always wanted to go to _Paris _or something. Then one day you get the opportunity, and even though you've never been there before you just know it's going to be _awesome, _like, the_ best fucking thing ever._ You can barely sleep because you're so excited and you get butterflies in your stomach every time you think about this awesome thing, and you_ just can't wait _'cause you know it's gonna be, like, the most fun you've _ever _had."

Butters honestly couldn't say he knew what Clyde was talking about...but he nodded anyway, feeling oddly captivated.

"Well, that's the feeling I get when I think about going to the dance with you," Clyde finished, talking fast, his sentences tumbling one after another in a whoosh of air, "like...like it's just going to be a really, _really _good time. The best thing ever. And my feelings have never steered me wrong." Clyde cocked his head, regarding Butters from under the lock of brown hair that had fallen over his eyes. "You know?"

"Oh. Y-yeah, I get it." Butters rubbed the back of his neck, trying to swallow down the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. He had never, _ever _felt so flustered or so flattered. For a guy who hated words, Clyde sure had a way with them.

"I mean...I'm not trying to pressure you or anything." Clyde said eventually, his voice low, "If you don't want to go with me because I'm a guy -"

Butters jerked his head up, indignant. "I-I don't care about that!"

"-or because you think I'm annoying or whatever -"

"It's not t-that either." Butters sighed, his skinny shoulders slumping in the confines of his oversized sweater. "...Clyde…"

"Butters! Son! Could you _come here_ a moment?"

_Mom. _"C-coming!" Butters shouted, feeling _infinitely _grateful for this interruption. His room had begun to feel like a sauna, and he desperately needed a moment to catch his breath and get his thoughts together. "U-um, just a sec." Butters told Clyde, backing hastily out of the room. Clyde just nodded, amusement written all over his face.

Once he was out, Butters took a moment to take a deep breath - a _deep _fucking breath - hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. _How can I explain it? _Butters was walking down the hall, anxiously pondering this, when his Mom's voice hissed out at him from the linen closet.

"Butters! In here!"

Butters slowly turned, feeling horrified and curious all at once, as if he were cruising by a bloody five car pile-up. The linen closet next to his room was slightly ajar, and he could see his parents huddled amongst the towels and spare sheets, peering disapprovingly out at him.

The linen closet..._next to his room_.

"Were ya'all…" Butters paused to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling one hundred _gazillion _percent done with this shit, "...listenin' the whole time…?"

"Yes!" Stephen Stotch whispered-shouted at his son, wagging a finger, "and it's a good thing we were, mister! Butters, you _accept _Clyde's invitation to this dance _this instant_ or you are _grounded_!"

"Wha?!" Butters cried, his eyes widening in shock. He might have been _furious _if he weren't so _confused_. Why the heck did his parents care so much? They had never encouraged him to go anywhere, and now _this_?

"Your father is right, Butters." Linda added, shoving two plates in Butters's startled hands. Chicken salad sandwiches, go figure. "You just give Clyde his sandwich and go to the dance with him. Go on now."

"Buh-but...but…" Butters stammered, clutching the plates. "Wuh-_whhhyyy_ are you...Mom,_ I don't wanna go!_"

"Keep your voice down!" Stephen hissed. "And you _do _want to go because we _say _you want to go, and that's _final_!"

"Good luck!" Linda whispered, and then the linen closet slammed shut.

Butters just stood there for a moment. Then he turned and walked very slowly back to his room.

When Butters nudged open the door Clyde was standing before his bookcase, excitedly looking over its contents. "Dude," he cried, gesturing, "I didn't know you read _comics_!" Clyde whirled around - and froze, his brows knitting in concern.

"_Dude_? Butters? Are you...okay? You look all...pale and stuff."

"O-oh, I'm…" Butters carefully set the plates down on his bed, and ran his hands over his face. "Aw shucks, I'm okay Clyde. Jus' kinda tired, I guess."

"Ahh." Clyde didn't look particularly convinced, but since Butters _really _didn't feel like saying much more than that he forced himself to smile, handing Clyde his plate. "Mom made chicken salad sandwiches, hope ya like 'em."

"Sweeeet! Dude, your Mom is awesome!"

_Not really_, Butters thought wearily, but he forced himself to smile at that, too.

Clyde sat cross-legged on the floor, happily munching away, while Butters perching himself on the bed, stealing half-hearted bites of his own sandwich. Despite his annoyance (and bewilderment), Butters had to admit he felt _comfortable _sitting with Clyde like this. The brown-haired boy had that effect; it was no wonder he was so well-liked, even if his supreme popularity was..._questionable_.

"That was good..." Clyde sighed, patting his stomach. "I haven't had stuff like that since Mom died, you know. Neither me or my Dad can cook for shit. That's why I'm always eating out at Taco Bell. I mean, I fucking _love _Mexican food, but...I really miss home-cooked meals."

_Aww, Clyde. _Butters studied the brown-haired boy sympathetically, a faint smile on his face. Clyde often came across as a brash, loud-mouthed, egotistical moron, but today had proven that wasn't really true. Clyde wasn't _egotistical _so much as he was utterly _confident_ about who he was and what he was all about. He was warm, funny, _charming_. Clyde had a personality like a firecracker in a quiet room. He was all noise and flash, a big bang to impress, yet needed to be handled carefully unless you wanted your face blown off. Everything that was _Clyde Donovan _was so very different from _Butters Stotch_, and Butters just couldn't understand it, couldn't wrap his mind around it. _How can you decide you like me, just like that? You don't even know me. If you really knew me, you'd be bored. If you really knew me, you wouldn't even think about taking me to a dance. I just know it._

Suddenly Butters couldn't take another bite, even though Linda had really outdone herself with the cooking. It all began to taste like sandpaper.

"So, I was thinking," Clyde began conversationally, glancing amiably up at Butters, "that I'm a _huge _fucking idiot and asking you out to a dance out of the blue was _totally unfair_ and probably a little _creepy _considering we barely know each other -"

Butters jerked in alarm. "Clyde -"

"-but I meant all that stuff I said earlier about...you know. Wanting to go with you. I really don't want to find anyone else," Clyde said, his voice soft, seductive somehow, and _oh great_ Butters was back to blushing again, "I just. Have this feeling. That we'd vibe. I'm totally, like, _ninety percent_ psychic, dude. I get _crazy _intuition about shit. I mean, I called the Tweak/Craig hookup from a mile away. Like_ ten miles_, dude. I kept telling Craig to stock up on the lube 'cause he'd need it, but that fucking asshole just wouldn't listen."

Clyde was looking at him as if he were waiting for some kind of response, his lips twitching in an obvious effort not to smile, but Butters so was fucking _embarrassed _(knowing his parents were listening in made it a hundred times worse) that he just covered his face with his hands, his aquamarine eyes peeking shyly out from between his fingers, skin red as a tomato.

"E-err...u-ummm…!"

Clyde laughed, a big, full-on laugh, and even embarrassed as he was Butters couldn't help but stare because Clyde just looked so...so…(unfairly fucking attractive) _happy_ it made Butters smile too.

"You really are..." Clyde began, then caught himself, wryly shaking his head. "Never mind. _Anyway_, I figured it'd only be fair if...maybe we started hanging out a little. After school and stuff. So you can get to know me...maybe like me a little."

"Clyde, I like you jus' fine -"

"No, dude. Not like _that_." Clyde said firmly. "You like me 'cause you like _everyone_. You see the _good _in everyone, no matter how horrible or idiotic they are. You think Eric Cartman's_ not that bad_ for Christ's sake! I don't _want _you to like me the same as everyone else. I want you to like me a little more than that." Clyde winked. "Get it?"

Oh, Butters got it. Unconsciously he began nibbling on his lip, nervous, flattered, embarrassed - and something else, a tight, warm feeling in his belly that he didn't want to think about, because it was all a lie. "Yuh-yeah, I, uh, g-got it. W-we can hang out after school, an' stuff, i-if you want. It would be fun."

"Are you agreeing because _I _want to or _you _want to? Because I only want to if you do, okay?" Clyde said, his expression earnest, a little pleading. "No pressure, dude. That's the _last _fucking thing I want."

Pressure? As opposed to the _pressure _his parents imposed on him every day? No, Clyde wasn't pressuring him at all, and Butters appreciated it more than he could adequately express. It surprised him how much he was actually looking forward to the thought of spending some time with Clyde. It _would _be fun, because Clyde would make it fun.

And of _course _Butters would go to the dance with him...that's what his parents wanted, isn't it?

"No," Butters said clearly, meeting Clyde's eyes, "I _want _to. Really."

"Dude, _alright_!" Clyde jumped up, beaming. "This is gonna be great, seriously! High five!"

Butters stood up, grinning, and gave Clyde a high-five. It turned out to be a weak slap, and Clyde frowned, clearly disappointed.

"C'mon dude, _weak_!" Clyde complained, raising his hands a little higher. "We gotta do, like, a super-friends mega-jump high-five of _awesomeness_! Like this!"

Clyde jumped and smacked Butters's hand with with "Whoo!", sending poor Butters sprawling wildly across his own bed. "Whoa dude, sorry!" Clyde yelled, reaching out to help Butters up. "Heh, you're _really _light...I could princess-carry you like nothing!"

"Wuh-well _yeah_, you're twice as big as me!" Butters protested, cradling his stinging hand against his chest. "Did ya really have to hit so _hard_?"

"It's not my fault you give lame-sauce high-fives!"

"Who_ high-fives_ anyone anymore? Nuh-nobody, that's who!"

For the next thirty minutes Butters and Clyde argued about the validity of high-fives, until Clyde's phone rang.

"My Dad's home," Clyde announced, jumping up. "I better get going. Umm...see you tomorrow?" _You're going to like me_, Clyde thought, smiling like an idiot._ You're going to liiikkkeee me. If I totally keep repeating it my head, the psychic waves will penetrate, yeah! _

"Y-yeah! Tomorrow!" Butters replied. _I'm so sorry, Clyde,_ Butters thought_. I just couldn't say it, the real reason I didn't want to go to the dance. I already love someone else..._


	6. 6

**6.**

* * *

Clyde is sitting at the kitchen table trying to stuff an entire pop-tart into his mouth when his father walks in, blearily adjusting his tie. Roger Donovan nods at his son and immediately heads for the coffee maker, and Clyde shoots him a smile flecked with strawberry frosting, then goes back to 'working' on his homework. He'd completely forgotten his history handout was due today, and was busy guessing his way through the fifty multiple choice questions. Thank _God _for multiple choice questions. If it'd been a short essay handout (which it sometimes was) he would have been _screwed_. Mrs. Harris had had it out for him ever since he turned in a paper claiming Abraham Lincoln started World War 1. _A, it's gotta be A. Crap, I circled A for the last one! So...C. _

"Is _that _all you're going to have for breakfast?" Roger asks, taking a seat at the table with a cup of coffee in hand. He was using Clyde's favorite mug, that one that reads World's Greatest Windower! in big sparkly letters. Clyde bought it for him last year and _still _thought it was fucking hilarious.

"There's nothing else in there." Clyde mumbles distractedly, taking a bite out of the second pop-tart in the wrapper. _Hmm, maybe D for this one..._

"There is too," Roger insists, frowning at his son, "I _specifically _bought that instant oatmeal so you could have something nutritious before school. And you haven't even touched those frozen whole-wheat waffles!"

"Dad, both of those things are _gross_." Clyde said, defensively brandishing his pop-tart. "There, I said it. I was _trying _to spare your feelings, but you had to go and _push _me. Why do you make me treat you so bad, huh?"

"You haven't even _tried _them," Roger grumbled, with a disapproving shake of his head, "I thought we discussed this, Clyde. If you don't start eating healthier you're going to have a heart attack by the time you hit twenty."

"I _am _eating healthier! I totally get a taco salad, like, three times a week!"

"That does _not _count and you know it," Roger snapped, but he was smiling a little in spite of his firm tone, "just, please, eat an apple every once in a while, okay? Get some _fiber _in your diet. The vegetables in the crisper have all gone to waste."

"_Fiiinnneee_." Clyde sighed, rolling his eyes, "I'll eat your stupid, non-taco flavored vegetables. _Gooossshhh_."

"Thank you." Roger said simply, reaching for the morning paper. He was well-used to his son's tendency to be dramatic. "Wait - are you doing your _homework _right now?"

"Er…" Clyde hastily covered the handout with his arm, trying to look innocent. "No?" When his father just narrowed his eyes at him, Clyde added a little weakly, "Maybe?"

Roger sighed. "Clyde, if you spent half as much time doing your _homework _as you did trying to impress your _friends _you'd be a straight A student."

"_Trying to impress_…?" Clyde echoed, mock-offended, "Dad, there is no _try_ about it. My friends are _already impressed. _Like, if they were _any _more impressed with me, I'd be getting _flowers _in the mail."

"Uh-huh. Sure." Roger opened his paper, smiling wryly, "And I suppose your ability to _impress _is why you have a date lined up every Friday night? Oh wait! You don't."

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa." Clyde held up a hand, making an _oh-no-you-didn't_ gesture. "_Whoa_. Harsh. You feel _good _about that burn, Dad? 'Cause I think I need to get child protective services up in here."

"Oh hush," Roger replied, laughing, "you deserved it for not eating your oatmeal like you promised. Seriously, son...I just want the best for you. I know you can do better if you only _tried_. Have you reconsidered college?"

"Dad…" Clyde sighed, running an exasperated hand back through his hair, "Not now. _Please_."

Roger threw his hands up. "Fine, fine..."

Clyde gloomily tapped his pencil against his homework, as Roger turned his paper to the business section. His father had given up the college discussion without a fight at all. Normally Clyde would have counted this as a victory, but he didn't feel particularly victorious this time. _College _was a topic they had bumped heads over time and time again. Clyde was sick to death of everyone bringing it up; not just his father, but the teachers, the counselors at school and even his own damn friends. For Clyde, college was a place people went to after high school if they were _good enough_, and he just..._wasn't_. He couldn't understand why his father wouldn't let it go._ I don't even know what the fuck I want to do, so what's the point?_

The only person who'd been even remotely supportive was Butters. Clyde could remember how earnest Butters looked, how _sweet_, smiling with those (gorgeous_) _aquamarine eyes of his as he leaned in and told Clyde he could do whatever he set out to do. Clyde smiled dreamily...then noticed Roger staring at him and tried to look serious.

"What?" Clyde said, when his father raised a brow suspiciously.

"What was _that _look all about?" his father asked, grinning widely.

"Look? _What _look? I have _no idea_ what you're referring to." Clyde replied airily, flipping to the last page of his handout.

"Riiiggghhhttt." Roger snorted, not believing his son for an instant. "You looked like you were about to start singing _Love Somebody_ any second now."

"_Maroon 5_?" Clyde was aghast, "Dad, you will never, _ever _catch me singing Maroon 5. Like, not even _humming _a song. I'm super-duper serious. You have my permission to give me up for _adoption _if I start liking Maroon 5."

"If I faaalll for you, I'll never recover, if I faaalll for you, I'll never be the same…"

Clyde was horrified. "Dad, no -"

"I really wanna _love somebody_, I really wanna _dance the night awa_y! I know we're only halfway there, but you can take me all the way-ay-ayy…"

"Dad, for the love of _God_, I will eat a carrot _right now_ if you stop."

Roger laughed, taking a sadistic pleasure only a parent could truly appreciate seeing his son so uncomfortable. "So, who's the lucky girl or…" he waved a hand, "...guy?"

Clyde had revealed his bisexuality to his father a year ago, during dinner. He made hot dogs, which was one of the few things Clyde could make without burning the house down. Clyde had been so nervous about his father's reaction he prepared a speech and everything, but when Roger came home, tiredly loosening his tie after a long day at the shoe store, Clyde's mind drew a blank and refused to cooperate with him. He ended up waiting until they were both sitting at the kitchen table, then suddenly pulled the wiener out of his bun and held them up for his father to see.

"Dad," Clyde blurted, "what do you like more? The wiener or the bun?"

Roger had just kind of looked at him, a flat, blank stare just this side of annoyed. Finally, his father decided to humor him. "...it wouldn't be a hot dog unless you had _both_, son."

"Hyeah, I, uh, totally agree! You need _both_. To make a hot dog. One is not complete without the other, y'know? I like both..._things_. Yeah. The _bun _is nice and soft...but the _wiener _is thick and juicy. I mean. I could be _either one_. The bun or the wiener. If someone ever put a gun to my head and said, 'Clyde, do you wanna be the wiener or the bun' I would be all 'Dude, _both _of those things sound pretty cool'! I could even, like, switch from time to time. Yeah. You know?"

Roger had slowly taken off his glasses, before leveling Clyde with a deeply concerned, serious look. "Clyde. Son. Are you _high _right now?"

"_What_?! No!"

"Damn it, Clyde, don't you _lie _to me! You're _high _right now, aren't you?! I _knew _you were hanging around that Craig Tucker too much for your own good -"

Clyde had slapped down the hot dog wiener and smashed the bun, frustrated. "Dad, I'm _bi_! I swing both ways. I bat for both teams. I'm a switch hitter. Holy _fuck_, why are so many sexual euphemisms _baseball _related?"

Roger had gawked at him, with his mouth open and his eyes huge behind his glasses. Clyde swallowed nervously, waiting for inevitable shit-storm.

"I was using the hot dog as a metaphor," he said weakly, when his father remained silent, "...it's a...you know. Metaphor? For stuff."

The shocked trance Roger had slipped into finally broke, and he studied his son for a very long moment before he just sighed and said, "...always use a condom, son."

That's it. _Always use a condom_. Clyde had been expecting a freak-out, or at the very least, a long, uncomfortable conversation. "That's...that's _it_? You're not...mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" Roger had asked, smiling a little, "You're my son and I love you. There's _nothing _to be mad about. I'm a little concerned why you thought a_ hot dog_ would serve as a proper metaphor, but…"

"Aw c'mon, it was _totally _genius!" Clyde had said, smiling with relief...but mostly just smiling with the love he felt for his father in that moment. Roger had been one hundred percent supportive ever since.

Sometimes Clyde didn't think he deserved such an awesome Dad.

"C'mon, who is it?" Roger pressed, still grinning, "The last time I saw you look like that was when you discovered carne asada fries."

Clyde chewed on the end of his pencil, silently weighing the pros and cons of an honest answer. Finally he just shrugged and said, "You know Butters?"

"Butters…?"

"You know, Butters Stotch? _Leopold _Stotch?" Clyde corrected, realizing his Dad probably wouldn't know Butters by his childhood nickname.

"Ahhh yes, Linda and Stephen's son, right?" Roger rubbed his chin, "I know little Butters Stotch. Is _that _who you were thinking of?"

"Maa_ayyybbbeee_."

"Butters is _such _a sweet kid," Roger continued thoughtfully, almost talking to himself, "his parents are fucking weirdos, but they've raised a real nice boy. Too nice." Roger cocked an eye at Clyde, "Does Butters know you have a little crush on him, _hmm_?"

"_Jesus_. It's not even a _crush_." Clyde complained, his cheeks going a little pink. "I just think he's cool, is all. He's got four hamsters with these stupid evil names, and he's really into comics, but, like, _Japanese _comics called _manga _or something like that. He talks with this slight Southern accent 'cause he's from originally Virginia, and he wants to be a doctor and _swears_ by karma. Oh! He also makes the _best_ peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches -"

"Wow. That's a lot of _detail _for someone who doesn't have a crush." Roger interrupted, chuckling. Clyde glared at his father, but Roger just laughed at him.

"Okay, _okay_," Clyde sighed, "so maybe I like him. A little. And maybe we're going to start hanging out. Some. I might even take him to the Spring Formal. Next Friday. We might even swing by the crib. Yeah. So FYI if you see a sock tied to the doorknob _do not come in_."

Roger rolled his eyes so hard the sheer force of it could have started an earthquake. "You talk a big game for a guy who_ ran into a door_, so forgive me if I don't hold my breath on that count."

Clyde nervously rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn't wanted to tell his father the _real _reason his face was covered in band-aids when he got home, so he'd made up a - admittedly stupid - story. Clyde wasn't entirely sure if his father had believed it, but Roger hadn't questioned him too hard in any case.

"All kidding aside, I'm happy for you," Roger said, neatly folding his paper, "out of all your classmates, Butters is probably the _least _offensive, so kudos for classing it up. Still...you're_ hanging out_ with him, you said? Do his parents know?"

"Heck yeah! They even gave Butters permission to stay out late!" Clyde finished off the last few questions on his handout with a flourish, scrawled in his name, and wiped the pop-tart crumbs from his mouth. _Just in time for school. _

"They did?" Roger sounded surprised. "Well...so long as Butters's parents know. I _really _don't want to get any angry phone calls this week. Just...be careful son. Have fun. For the love of God, don't corrupt the kid, and _please_, try not to get too swept up in anything."

"Swept up? _Who's_ getting swept up?" Clyde demanded, stuffing his homework carelessly into his backpack, "I do the _sweeping, _Dad. As in me, and _people off their feet_."

"You _say _that, but you're one big baby when it comes your feelings," Roger replied affectionately, "When you get hurt, you're _hurt_. When you decide you like someone you really, _really _like them, and God knows you'd take a bullet for any one of your friends. You do everything at the speed of light or not at all. Just...take it easy, okay? Butters may not be able to handle your special brand of whirlwind. I just don't want to see you getting hurt."

"Dad, don't _worry_, geeze. We're just hanging out," Clyde said, heading for the door, "I'm not tryin' to _marry _the guy or anything! Besides, Butters is literally the _last _person who'd ever set out to hurt my feelings."

"You sure?"

" '_Course _I'm sure!" Clyde replied confidently, "I got this shit on _lock_, alright?"

"Watch your mouth," Roger called, smiling a little, "Have a good day at school, son."

* * *

Clyde finds Craig Tucker in his usual spot, smoking a cigarette while he waits for the first period bell.

Standing alone in the shade of the temp building, Tucker seems to occupy a world all his own, separate from the trivial problems and daily concerns of all his peers. Craig always had an aura about him, which is probably one of the (many) reasons why Clyde used to like him so much. He was always so _mature_, even when they were children, he always seemed to know so much more than everyone else. Craig reminded Clyde a lot of Kenny in that regard. They both knew a hell of a lot more than they _should _have at their age, but whereas Kenny hid a caring heart underneath his over-sexed, frivolous demeanor, Craig never gave a shit about _anything_, least of all anyone's opinion of him. Tucker carried himself like a king amongst peasants - only the peasants were too fucking stupid to give him his proper dues.

Lots of people thought Craig was hopelessly stuck-up, standoffish and moody, but Clyde knew that wasn't it at all. Craig could be an absolute asshole, _no doubt about it_, but that was only because he had zero patience for bullshit. With Tucker, you had one chance, and one chance only, to get to the fucking point. After that he was _done_, and Clyde had often wondered how they became friends in the first place.

Perhaps even kings needed a diversion from time to time.

Craig seemed utterly engrossed in his cigarette, but he glanced up the moment he heard Clyde approaching him. That was typical of Craig. He never really looked like he paid any special attention to anyone or anything, but he was alert and aware of his surroundings in a way that was borderline uncanny. One moment you thought Tucker was ignoring you, and the next he had you pinned to the wall with his stare, or reeling from some comment delivered in that deadpan voice of his.

Clyde waved as he strolled up, but Craig just stared at him, expressionless, thin tendrils of smoke drifting up from the end of his cigarette. Clyde had known Craig for a long time, and had learned to read him - a little. Kenny was better at it than Clyde, and Tweak could damn-near read his mind and pick up on even the subtlest changes in Craig's already limited emotional range. Clyde thought Craig looked surprised to see him. Maybe. _Probably_? Clyde couldn't be entirely sure, but he thought he saw a flicker of surprise in Tucker's ice-blue eyes, before they went as carefully blank as his face. _Surprise _would make sense. It had been a while since Clyde had strolled up to him like this, as friendly and casual as if they were still the bestest of buds (_We are, totally!_) and absolutely nothing had changed between them (because it was better to pretend everything was still the same).

Clyde had forgotten how absolutely piercing Craig's eyes were. They were nothing like Butters's, warm with a hint of green. Craig had eyes like a glacier, like an _iceberg_. The same blue that had sunk the Titanic.

Clyde had only seen them unfocused once.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my _favorite _juvenile delinquent!" Clyde greeted, flashing Tucker a grin. "How's it hanging homie?"

Tucker looked Clyde up and down before answering, his voice a monotone, "Long time no see, Clyde. What the fuck happened to your face?"

Ahhh. Blunt as ever. Clyde shrugged, touching the bad scrape above his eye, his only significant bit of damage, "Psh, _this_? It's nothing, dude. I, uh, ran into a door. Yeah."

"I _hope _you don't fucking expect me to believe that."

"Okay, okay. You got me," Clyde sighed, throwing up his hands in defeat, "it's a rug burn. I spent my Thursday afternoon face-down, ass-up, getting pegged by a gorgeous blonde bombshell with a ball gag in my mouth. I wanted to save it for my graduation speech, but I'm _hardcore _into S&M, dude. Sometimes I just want someone to _spank _me like I've been a bad, bad boy."

Clyde was expecting Tucker to laugh, or at the very least roll his eyes, shake his head and call him a moron, but the very opposite of that happened. Craig actually tossed down his cigarette half-smoked, crushing it beneath his heel. His expression didn't change, and neither did his voice, but when he turned to face Clyde he seemed almost angry. Maybe. _Probably_? With Tucker it was hard to tell.

"Are you just going to stand there making stupid fucking jokes, or answer my question?" Tucker asked, his eyes so sharp they could drill a hole in someone's face.

"I thought I just did." Clyde replied, smiling. _Just keep smiling, dude._ Tucker actually frowned a little at the sight of it, his lips - he had nice lips, full, a little pouty - thinning ever-so-slightly. Clyde just plowed right along, ignoring the frown, the intensity of his gaze, "So! What are you doing next Friday, dude?"

Tucker raised a brow, but said nothing.

"'Cause I was thinking, maybe we could all get together!" Clyde's tone was cheerful, so cheerful he bordered on false, but he couldn't help it. _Just keep smiling, keep pretending nothing happened. _"I know you're too cool for school and all, but there's a Spring Formal, like, next week dude, and everyone knows you can't leave high school until you've attended a certain number of school-sponsored events. So I totally think we should _all _go! You, me, Tweak, Token, Kenny -"

"A dance."

Clyde didn't think it was possible, but Tucker's stare had become even more intense, _disapproving _somehow. Craig stared at Clyde as if he'd gone insane, before he kind of snorted and leaned wearily back against the wall of the temp building. Clyde didn't have to guess to know Tucker felt bored with him, bored and a little _condescending_, as if he was talking complete nonsense. Clyde felt cold anger building in his belly, and it shocked him. Clyde just didn't get angry easily, even at things he probably _should _be angry with. When he was angry it tended to be intense, with lots of yelling (and tears just as likely), but even then Clyde's anger never lasted very long. This feeling was new. It was like a wound that had festered for months and then split open, oozing a sickening pus of hurt feelings that Clyde had bundled up tight and shoved somewhere deep inside, hoping he wouldn't have to look at them again.

"A fucking dance." Tucker repeated slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Really. Is that all you came to talk to me about?"

"Yeah, dude. What else would I fucking _talk _to you about?" The words were out before Clyde knew it, so sharp they lashed the space between them. Tucker actually blinked, and there was no doubt about it this time - he was _surprised_. Clyde's smile hadn't left his face once, but it had taken on a slightly poisonous edge that was at odds with his otherwise amiable tone of voice.

"Exactly what deep, _meaningful _fucking conversations could I possibly want to have with you, huh?" Clyde continued, because if Tucker could drop F-bombs in every sentence, then _fuck it,_ so could he, "Am I asking you for fucking advice? Craig Tucker's greatest tips and tricks on how to be a fucking _asshole_? No, I'm fucking _not_. So what the fuck are you doing next Friday, you arrogant son of a _bitch_?"

Craig straightened up. He was tall, almost six feet, and seemed to loom dangerously over Clyde, his hands balled into fists.

"Donovan," Tucker says, shifting closer, his voice threateningly low -

"Hey guuuyyysss. What's going on?"

Clyde jerks as if he's been slapped. Craig exhales softly and goes back to leaning against the building, relaxed and uncaring as ever. When Clyde whirls around there's Kenneth 'Kenny' McCormick, not quite as tall as Craig but tall enough, a devastatingly handsome boy with longish sandy-blonde hair, a _fuck-me_ smile and eyes so dark blue they sometimes looked black. Kenny's grin was languid, but there was tension written everywhere else, in the way his eyes darted worriedly from Clyde to Craig, and in how he was standing - loose and at the ready - as if he'd been waiting to jump in a break up a fight. How long had Kenny been standing there? Clyde had no clue. McCormick could be as stealthy as a cat when he wanted to be.

"H-hey, Ken-man!" Clyde greeted, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky as he felt, "Duuudddeee, I thought you skipped the fucking _country_, I haven't seen you in so long! Gimme some love, jerk!"

Kenny hesitated for half a second, still glancing warily between Clyde and Craig, as if he was expecting them to straight up punch each other in the _face _any moment now. Clyde thought Kenny was being ridiculous, because that would _never _happen.

No way.

When nobody made any sudden moves, Kenny stepped forward and gave Clyde a 'bro-hug' - hand-slap shoulder-bump and release - looking a little relieved. Tucker just nodded at Kenny without moving.

"I've been _working_," Kenny answered, chuckling, "I'm taking care of my little sister now. Apartments aren't cheap, dude. Where the hell have you been? And what happened to your eye?" Kenny leaned forward, smiling suggestively. "Took a _hard one_ to the face, eh?"

Clyde could almost feel Tucker's eyes on the back of his neck, but there was no way he was about the give that bastard the satisfaction. He smiled smugly. "I was _just _telling Craig. It's a rug burn I got being pegged by a hot blonde. You should have _seen _how jealous he was."

Kenny laughed, and Clyde could have bear-hugged him for playing along, for diffusing the situation, for being his _friend_. "Niiiccceee," Kenny said, nodding approvingly, "aren't you proud, Craig? Our little Clyde's becoming a man."

Tucker made a small, non-committal noise that could have meant anything from _You're both fucking idiots_ to _I have a slight case of indigestion_. The anger that had seeped up from God-knows-where had fled back to its dark hidey-hole. Clyde risked a look at Tucker, apprehensive. To his surprise, Craig was staring right back at him, not angrily, not...not _anything_, really. If Clyde had to put a name on it, he would have said Tucker looked sort of curious, perhaps a little confused, as if he wanted to pull Clyde to the side as ask _Dude, what the hell was that about?_

He didn't, and for that Clyde was thankful. He wouldn't have been able to answer that question.

"Kenny, what are you doing next Friday?" Clyde asked, desperate to move on to something else. Kenny frowned thoughtfully, running his fingers back through his long hair. "I don't know. I might have the day off from work, actually. Why?"

"Okay, okay, good, 'cause I was thinking -"

"Tweak." Tucker murmured suddenly, gazing out across the parking lot. Tweak Tweek was slowly making his way to school with a thermos of coffee in hand, looking half-dead. The heir to the Tweek Bros. Coffee empire had always reminded Clyde of a scarecrow with all the stuffing taken out. Tall and painfully thin, with a wild shock of platinum-blonde hair, it often seemed as if one strong gust of wind could send Tweak spinning into the atmosphere. He had none of Kenny's drop-dead gorgeous looks or Craig's bad-boy animal magnetism. Tweak had a long, horsey face and a wan complexion, but his eyes were _stunning _- or at least Clyde had always thought so. Huge and green as uncut emeralds, Tweak's eyes constantly darted around in his head, reflecting his anxious disposition. The dark circles he could never seem to get rid of made those eyes stand out even more somehow, and Tweak's cautious, woeful gaze had the power to draw you in, despite his jittery behavior. Perhaps Tweak's eyes were what Craig liked best about him. Clyde didn't know. He'd never asked.

Tweak saw them and offered a nervous, slightly off-kilter smile, before heading in their direction. Clyde suddenly forgot what he was saying.

"Tell Tweak I said _ooga booga_! Later, nerds!" Clyde said, making a mad dash for the entrance.

"Dude -" Kenny began, but Clyde was already gone. He didn't stop walking until he had made it to his locker, breathing hard. _Shit_.

Feeling miserable for no reason he could name, Clyde opened his locker and began stowing his books away. He was starting to hope that _maybe _he'd get through the rest of this morning without any incidents; that is until he closed his locker door and found Kenny standing right behind it with his arms crossed. _Ah, crap_. Clyde took one look at Kenny's face and knew he was in for it. That was McCormick for you. Kenny could be as big a goofball as Clyde, but only up to a certain point. When it was time to get serious, he got _serious _as a motherfucker.

"Clyde, what the _hell _was that all about?" Kenny demanded without preamble, frowning down at him. Clyde sighed. He really, _really _hated being the shortest of his friends sometimes.

"What was _what _all about?" Clyde mumbled, feigning ignorance.

"Can you just cut the crap, please?"

"No," Clyde snapped, raising his hands to make sarcastic little air quotes, "I can't "_cut the crap_", because I don't know what you're talking about!" _Please, Kenny. Not now. Not you, of all people._

"Jesus Christ!" Kenny snapped, clearly beginning to lose his patience, "You and Craig haven't spoken to each other or hung out in _months _-"

"We speak." Clyde muttered.

"- That's _bullshit_, asshole, and you know it." Kenny's eyes dared Clyde to argue. Clyde just flushed and glanced away. Kenny sighed, lowering his voice a little. "Seriously, man. What the hell _happened _between you two?"

Clyde bit his lip, refusing to meet Kenny's gaze. "_Nothing_! Jesus, dude! _Dramatic _much?"

"Is this about -"

"_Token_!" Clyde exclaimed, spinning away from Kenny. Token was ambling down the hall, holding hands with his girlfriend, Nicole. Clyde practically leapt into their arms.

"Token, my _main homie_," Clyde cried, ignoring Token's quizzical look, "and Nicole, my _main babe_! Hey _guuurrrlll_."

Nicole laughed, her dark eyes shining. "Hi, Clyde."

Clyde learned in and kissed Nicole's left cheek while she giggled uncontrollably, ("Muah!") then kissed her on the right ("Muaahhh!"). Token just rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smile.

"So, _besides _each other, what are you two lovebirds doing next Friday?" Clyde asked, ignoring Kenny's glare. "Don't you guys want to go to a dance, eh? _Eh_?"

"A...dance?" Token repeated slowly, shooting Nicole a confused look. "What dance?"

Clyde forced a smile through gritted teeth. He was getting _really fucking tired_ of getting nothing but blank stares every time he brought up the Spring Formal. Did _anybody _keep up with school events?

"You know," Nicole said before Clyde could answer, smiling warmly up at her boyfriend, "The big spring dance next Friday. I was going to tell you about it, Token. I think we should go."

_My main babe._ Clyde could have kissed her all over again. Token looked thoughtful, before he just shrugged and said, "I mean...sure, why not? Are you guys going?"

"We're going!" Clyde answered immediately, flashing an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "Totally!"

"...I guess I'm going now." Kenny replied, his voice dry.

"Alright," Token said, visibly warming up to the idea, "sounds good, man. I have to get to class now, but...hit me up later and we'll talk about it some more."

"Friggin' _sweet_, dude!"

_My main homie_, Clyde mused warmly as Token and Nicole continued on down the hall. Clyde _loved _Token. He was definitely the most level-headed, dependable and emotionally stable of all his friends. Clyde figured every group needed a truly _neutral _voice of reason, and Token was it. The dude was like a _bomb shelter_. Tough. Strong. There for you when all else failed. Token was a good listener and could keep a secret like _nobody's _business - Clyde couldn't count how many times he'd ranted to Token about one thing or another. Kenny always _meant _well, but all it took were a few strong drinks (or one ready and willing body) to get him talking. Craig _hated _to play the emotional tampon, and listening to other people's problems gave Tweak nightmares.

"He don't pop molly, he rocks _Tom Ford_!" Clyde shouted across the hall as the first period bell finally rang overhead. Nicole giggled. Token laughed, shook his head, and then they both disappeared around a corner.

"Welp, guess I better be heading to class myself or -"

"You're the _king _of avoidance, you know that?" Kenny's voice was cool, one-hundred percent _unamused_. Clyde feels a muscle jump in his cheek.

"So you think...what?" Kenny continued relentlessly, ignoring the subtle tightening in Clyde's shoulders, "Rounding up all the guys, getting all dressed up and going to a stupid _dance _is an acceptable substitute for sitting down and having an actual _conversation _about what's bothering you? This isn't going to work, Clyde. You're going to waste all this time and energy and _nothing will change_. Craig's your friend, dude! _I'm _your friend. So would you please stop being so stupid and just tell me -"

Clyde whirled around so fast Kenny actually took half a step back, his eyes widening. It was obvious Clyde was trying to smile. It was forced and stiff, and didn't so much as reach his hazel eyes, which were slightly narrowed with anger. Seeing Clyde angry was bad enough, but watching him _smiling _through it was even worse. Clyde was awfully good at pretending. He would rather pretend he was okay than admit to anything that might make him seem weak. Clyde would smile while his house burned down around him. He took all his hurts and pushed them away because he thought it was _easier _that way. Kenny wanted so badly to shake him, but Clyde was clearly having none of it.

"Kenny. Drop it. If you're my _friend _like you say you are, you'll drop this. Now." Clyde said softly.

Kenny studied him for a moment, before he just sighed and shook his head sadly. "I _am _your friend. That's why it sucks to see you acting this way, you _idiot_. But if you don't want to talk about it, _fine_. See you at the dance."

Clyde watched Kenny walk away, trembling a little. The hall had begun to fill up with students laughing, talking and cursing as they made their way to class, some quickly, others not so much. The day hadn't even begun, but Clyde just wanted to go home. _It's not stupid, Kenny, you fucking know-it-all. Going to the dance is a good idea. I just want one night, one lousy night where we all have fun like we used to. _

Clyde swallowed down the lump of frustrated tears and unexpressed emotions that had formed in his throat and slowly began making his way to homeroom. _What a great fucking way to start the day. Snapping at my friends, making a fool of myself...fantastic._

Clyde hadn't expected to see him, but as he rounded the hall near the second-floor staircase suddenly there was Butters. The blonde-haired boy was putting some books away in a locker, obliviously humming a tune to himself. Clyde actually stopped in his tracks, overcome by a powerful urge to walk over and say hello, give him a hug perhaps, or maybe just ask Butters to hold him while he sobbed on his shoulder. Clyde was hardly very tall himself (so who cared, five-foot-seven was plenty tall enough…plenty!) but Butters was even shorter than him. The kid certainly seemed fond of sweaters and Converse sneakers, Clyde noticed with a grin. Today he wore dark blue wool over a white button-down, and white hi-tops with a black trim. Butters was so unfashionable he was fashionable.

_I should totally say hi. Or smile or...something. That wouldn't be too needy. It's common courtesy! _Clyde cleared his throat, vaguely wondering why he was suddenly so nervous, but Butters closed his locker, looked up and saw him before Clyde could make a move. Clyde froze. _And now Butters catches me staring at him like a creep. Wow, I am really, really off my fucking game today. _

"Hi Clyde!" Butters said cheerfully, strolling over without the slightest hint of awkwardness or hesitation. Clyde let out a breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding, the biggest, goofiest grin spreading across his face. _Whoa, Clyde, play it cool. _

"H-hey, Butters. What's up?" Clyde answered, using his best "smooth" voice. _Oh yeah. I got this. _Butters giggle-snorted a little.

"Nothin' much! Jus' gettin' ready to head to homeroom an' all, but I saw ya and thought...w-well, I jus' wanted to say hi an' all!" Butters replied, rocking back and forth on his heels. Clyde wondered if it was even physically possible for Butters to lie. "A-anyway, I jus' wanted to ask...um, Clyde?"

Clyde blinked in the face of Butters's sudden concern, thrown off. "Uh...y-yeah?"

"Are ya...are you _alright_? You jus' look kinda off is all." Butters said, studying Clyde's face with furrowed brows. Clyde flushed a little, shrugging nonchalantly.

"W-who, me? Dude, I'm fine. I'm _great_! I'm, like, fucking _excellent _right now. Yeah."

"Are ya sure?" Butters asked, still frowning. To Clyde's shock (and pleasure, _definitely _pleasure) Butters reached up and gently pressed a small hand to the side of his face. Butters seemed to be checking for a fever, but Clyde could have tipped right over. He didn't, because that would mean Butters would stop touch touching him. "You feel real warm, an' you're lookin' kinda pale, too...did ya eat a healthy breakfast?"

"Pop-tarts." Clyde murmured. "Strawberry."

"Pop-tarts are real good," Butters laughed, dropping his hand, "B-but, if ya really wanna start the day off right, you should have something more substantial! Like oatmeal, o-or maybe some toast, or fruit an' -"

"Whole-wheat waffles?"

"Y-yeah!" Butters nodded, grinning. "That's good too!"

"I'll keep that in mind." Clyde winked. He'd probably be feeling Butters's hand on his cheek all day.

"Neat-o! Five outta five experts in _The Journal of Modern Medicine_ agree, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"

"The Journal of…? Dude, you read_ The Journal of Modern Medicine_?" Clyde slowly shook his head, amused and impressed. Butters giggled, back to rocking on his heels.

"If I'm gonna be a doctor, I gotta know this stuff!" Butters said, cheerfully poking Clyde in the chest. _So much blessed contact. _It was almost enough to make Clyde forget how shitty his morning had been. _You can play doctor with me anytime, Butters. _

The first period warning bell sounded overhead, the last bell before you were officially late. Butters jumped, looking around.

"G-gosh, we better get to class before we get in trouble!"

"Yeah…" Clyde agreed, even though he couldn't have cared less about making it on time. _Fucking bells, interrupting my quality time. _

"Oh, I jus' remembered!" Butters said, digging through his pockets, "I wuh-wanted to ask you, i-if, um, you didn't have any plans for hanging out later, if m-maybe we could go this place?"

Butters nervously handed Clyde a crumpled up flier, blushing a little. "I always wanted to go, an' I figured, since today is Friday an' my parents are okay with us stayin' out late an' all...b-but if it's too much trouble or you already made plans -"

"Dude," Clyde interrupted, smiling, "this is perfect. We'll go. I promise." _Your wish is my command. _

Wow, that didn't sound corny at all. Even though it was true. Clyde thought Butters might _like_ corny.

Butters beamed at him. "Whoopie! O-okay, see ya later!"

Butters ran off, waving. Clyde stared down at the flier in his hands, biting his lip.

Clyde didn't particularly like the idea, especially after this morning, but…

Fulfilling Butters's wish was going to call for a _favor_. Here's hoping Kenny wouldn't hold a grudge against him.


	7. 7

**7.**

**"Would you like me?"**

* * *

By all accounts, Butters is an _excellent _student. He was the sort of kid who always raised his hand in class and enthusiastically participated in even the silliest of group activities. All his teachers agreed - Butters was courteous, attentive and hard working. He tried his best, even when he wasn't particularly fond of the subject material, and this sheer persistence generally earned him very good grades. Butters wasn't a natural brainiac like Kyle or Wendy - his intelligence was actually fairly average - but he didn't _have _to be a genius. He had a '_can-do_' attitude, and unlike many of his peers, Butters _liked _going to school. He got to learn all kinds of neat things, and be away from his parents for a while. What was _not _to like? Earning good grades was just a nice bonus. Butters liked school so much he regularly volunteered to stay late tutoring (he sometimes even helped his teachers grade papers, but that was a secret!). Today, however, Butters couldn't get out of this place _fast _enough.

Butters stowed his books away, slammed his locker shut, then joined the flow of traffic out of school. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Butters couldn't help feeling extremely excited about today. He was staying out _late_! On a _Friday_! With a _friend_! It all sounded so very simple, but his parents kept him on such a short, strict leash (...for his own good, of course) that Butters _cherished _any freedom, no matter how small. He still had no idea why his parents were being so _weird _about this - he honestly didn't _want _to know - but if they were willing to extend his curfew so Clyde could take him out, then who was he to argue? Butters didn't have a choice in the matter one way or the other, so he might as well enjoy himself. _I'm not taking advantage of Clyde. I'm not! My parents are making me do this!_

Butters sighed. He had never been very good at lying to himself.

Deep down, Butters knew he'd have to figure out how he was going to get out of this dance. Hanging out was one thing, but showing up to the Spring Formal on Clyde Donovan's arm was one big sack of _nope, no way, negatory and no-can-do. _Butters felt bad enough, giving Clyde the impression that he might actually _like _him as more than a friend some day. _I can't like you more, Clyde. I'm saving myself for someone else. _The last thing Butters wanted to do was hurt Clyde's feelings, or...or_ lead him on_, somehow. Butters nodded to himself, determined. He would hang out with Clyde two, maybe three times, so his parents wouldn't get suspicious. Then he would fake sick and tell Clyde he couldn't go to the dance. Hell, if things got _really _desperate, Butters would eat some _almonds _and have another allergic reaction. Nobody, not even his parents, could get mad at him for refusing to go a Spring Formal with his face and tongue all swollen. Three days. Butters smiled to himself as he headed for South Park High's rear parking lot, where Clyde wanted to meet up.

Clyde couldn't _possibly _get attached to him after just three days.

School had only been out for fifteen minutes, but the parking lot was already mostly empty. Butters found Clyde waiting by the gate, checking his phone. The brown-haired boy looked up when he heard Butters approach, flashing his dazzling action hero smile.

"Hey dude," Clyde greeted, shoving his phone into a back pocket of his baggy jeans, "ready to go have some _fun_?"

"You _bet_!" Butters replied, with a little victory jump. Clyde laughed, his hazel eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Okay, dude. Don't take this the wrong way, but why the _hell _are you so excited to go to…" Clyde pulled out the flier Butters had given him, "...the South Park tri-county fair?"

"_Because_!" Butters flailed his arms, unable to contain himself, "Fairs are _awesome_! T-There's games an' rides an' you can win _prizes _an' they have _haunted houses_ an' candy apples an' funnel cakes with strawberries an' giant corn dogs an' turkey legs an' there's pettin' zoos an' _all kinds of stuff_! I _love _fairs!" Butters calmed down a little, smiling ruefully. "I haven't been to a fair s-since I moved here from Virginia."

"How come?"

"Wuh-well, I dunno…" Butters shyly scuffed his shoes. "My parents never wanted to take me 'cause they thought fairs were for little kids, I guess. An' none of the guys would have wanted to go. Stan an' Kyle an' Eric, I mean. They probably could have jus' made fun of me for even bringin' it up."

_Yeah, they probably would have. _Clyde shook his head, then grinned. "Well, it's my pleasure to be your escort for the evening, dude! South Park tri-county fair, here we come!"

Butters's entire face lit up. "Y-you really mean that Clyde? You aren't bored or nothin' about goin' to the fair?"

"No _way_, dude! It's just like you said! Fairs are fucking awesome." Clyde made a big show of cracking his knuckles. "Watch me _own_ those games! I'm going to _slay _it. I'll be _Clyde the Conqueror_ up in that bitch!"

Butters giggled, delighted. "An' we can ride the ferris wheel? An' do the bungee jump?!"

"You can ride the ferris wheel until you throw up, dude." Clyde replied, smiling affectionately down at Butters. The blonde-haired boy always got so excited about the little things. Butters never took anything for granted. It was incredibly endearing. "Okay, but like, I have _one more_ question, dude. And it's kinda serious. _Maybe _offensive. I mean, not to _me. _I'm the hardest person in the world to offend, but some people get kinda _touchy _when you ask them this question, so I wanted to warn you in advance -"

"Clyde," Butters interrupted, laughing, "jus' _ask _me! I don't get offended easily or nothin'."

"Okay. Alright. So..." Clyde rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of a nice way to ask Butters what was on his mind, instead of just blurting it out like an idiot, "Okay, look. I'm bi all day long. I'm bi as a zebra."

"A _zebra_?" Butters repeated, confused. "I-I...I'm not tryin' to second-guess you or nothin', Clyde, but huh-how are zebras even _slightly _comparable to being bisexual?"

"Dude, zebras are black and white! They're totally rockin' both! And I like boys _and _girls, so...there! It's _totally _comparable!"

"U-um..."

"Dude, don't think about it so hard," Clyde said impatiently. "_Anyway_, yesterday you said you didn't care about going to the dance with a guy." Butters nodded, still looking mildly confused. "So, I was just wondering...are you...you know…" Clyde gestured weakly, hoping Butters would get it. Butters just looked at him, his aquamarine eyes wide. Clyde sighed. "...gay? Maybe?"

_He's totally gay. Butters is as gay as a diamond-studded rainbow. He's so gay he craps glitter - _

"I like girls!" Butters chirped.

Oh. Clyde blinked. Never mind, then.

"Yeah," Butters continued happily, "g-girls are real neat! I know Kim Kardashian is a hobbit an' all, but _dat booty_ jus' won't quit! An' Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow is _sooo _sexy, an' don't even get me _started _on Angelina Jolie!"

"Uh…"

"Oh, the girls around school are real nice too, don't get me wrong." Butters scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "Wendy's so _pretty_. Bebe's got the hottest boobies though, an' Annie Nelson -"

"Okay, _okay_! You like girls." Clyde pinched the bridge of his nose, his head spinning a little. "So...bi?"

Butters shrugged. "W-well, I dunno! Maybe? I never really thought it about like that." Butters smiled, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I jus'...well, I jus' like _people_. It doesn't matter to me one bit if you're a boy or a girl! I like all _kinds _of people! Everyone's so different an' so special in their own way, y'know? People are fascinatin'!" Butters leaned in, beaming up at Clyde. "Don'tcha agree?"

Clyde chuckled softly. "Yeah. I agree, dude." _Well. That settles that. _"Anyway. Yeah. Thanks for answering that and...stuff. I didn't mean to get all up in your business."

Butters giggled. "No one's ever asked me that before," he said cheerfully, "you don't have to apologize! I probably didn't answer your question none too good, b-but that's 'cause I honestly never thought about it." Butters bounced, fidgety as a toddler on a sugar rush. "I-is that all? Um, is it okay if we go now?"

"_Patience_, young grasshopper. We're waiting for our _chauffeur_."

"Chauffeur?" Butters cocked his head, puzzled. "Y-you got someone to drive us to the fair?"

"In _style_." Clyde agreed smugly. "Oh look, there he is now."

A 1970 Boss 302 Mustang rumbled into the school parking lot. Butters froze, his heartbeat picking up speed at an alarming rate. He didn't even have to look to know who was behind the wheel of that bright red beauty. That car was the envy of every guy in school, and Kenny McCormick's pride and joy. According to Stan, the Mustang had been a gift from his father, the _one _good thing Stuart McCormick had ever given his son - but even _that _wasn't saying much. It was a rusted, undrivable mess when Stuart passed it down to Kenny, a dull brown piece of shit propped up on cinder blocks with the engine so shot weeds had grown up over it. Kenny had been restoring it for years, a little bit here, a little bit there, setting aside some of the money he earned helping his brother Kevin out in his auto garage to purchase parts. He had rebuilt the Mustang's engine himself, spending countless hours fine-tuning that bad boy until growled like a tiger when idle and went from zero to sixty before you could say _Well, damn_. Kenny had once boasted that he could fix just about anything, and the Mustang was proof.

The car slowed to a stop. Butters watched, paralyzed with fear, as Kenny climbed out. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear blood rushing in his ears, and his stomach had lurched so violently that for one awful moment Butters thought he was going to vomit. His aquamarine eyes were huge and shiny in his pale face. _Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no no…_

"Ken-man," Clyde greeted casually, oblivious to Butters's reaction, "what it do, boo?"

"Clyde." Kenny replied dryly, rolling his eyes. "You _said _you wanted me to take you somewhere, and that it was an emergency. So what is it?" Kenny glanced over, noticing Butters for the first time. "Oh. Hey Butters," he said, his brows lifting slightly, "what are _you _doing here?"

Butters flinched, his eyes fleeing downward. He didn't even _bother _lifting his head again. "H-h-h-hi...K-K-K-Kenny…" Butters stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-I...um...I…" Try as he might, Butters couldn't seem to get another word out. It was as if someone had taken him in a stranglehold. Fortunately, Clyde stepped in, grinning.

"Butters is with me!" He said brightly. "And, uh, this _is _an emergency. _Totally_! Like, life or death, dude! I...uh, kinda need you to drive us to the tri-county fair."

Kenny's eyes went wide, then narrowed dangerously. "_Excuse_ me?"

"Errr…" Clyde laughed nervously, quickly taking Kenny by the arm, "Heh, can I talk to you for a sec, dude? Like, _over there_?" When Kenny's eyes narrowed even further, Clyde added pleadingly, "Please?"

Kenny glared at the brown-haired boy, then sighed and hissed, "Fine!" between tightly gritted teeth. Clyde smiled with relief.

"Hey Butters, gimme just a moment, okay? I gotta have a conference with the chauffeur."

Butters nodded stiffly, his eyes never once leaving the ground between his feet.

Kenny walked ahead, bristling with annoyance. When he was sure Butters was out of earshot, he rounded on Clyde, snapping, "What the _fuck_, Clyde! This isn't a fucking emergency!"

"Dude, I know, I'm sorry!" Clyde replied, raising his hands defensively, "But if I told you the real reason, you just have just blown me off!" Clyde jabbed an accusing finger at McCormick, "And don't even bother trying to deny it!"

Kenny sighed, running his hands back through his hair. "Dude, what the _hell _is going on with you? First Craig and now _this _shit?"

"This has nothing to do with Craig!" Clyde whisper-shouted, stealing a worried glance over his shoulder at Butters, "That's all I fucking hear from you nowadays! Craig this, Craig that, blah-blah-de-fucking-_blah_!_ News flash_ jerk, my life doesn't revolve around _Craig-fucking-Tucker_!"

"It did once." Kenny pointed out cooly. Clyde flushed red, his mouth tightening. Kenny sighed again, his shoulders slumping. "Look, I...I'm sorry, dude. That was uncalled for. It's just..."

"It's fine." Clyde replied, swallowing. "Look. I know I lied, but can you just...do this one thing for me, Kenny? Please. It's important to me. I'll even owe you a favor, if you want."

"Clyde...you don't have to owe me a favor." Kenny shook his head, a little rueful, a little sad. "If it's that important to you, I got your back, you _know _I do. I just want to make sure you're _okay._"

"Jesus, who let Dr. Phil up in this piece?" Clyde asked jokingly, but when Kenny didn't so much a crack a smile he gave up, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'm _fine_, Kenny. Really. Honestly and seriously, in all seriousness. I'm _good_. I have Butters with me. How could I not be on top of the world?"

Kenny glanced thoughtfully at Butters, then back at Clyde, a slow grin spreading across his handsome face. "You're taking Butters to a _fair_? Is this a _date_?"

"Kind of...sort of...yes? It's _complicated_!" Clyde insisted, blushing a little.

"Oh, I _bet,_" Kenny practically purred, "you and _Butters_? I never would have guessed. Good for you, man. How long has this been going on, huh?"

"Not that long." Clyde admitted, stealing another glance at Butters. The blonde-haired boy seemed to purposely be avoiding looking in this direction. Clyde smiled wistfully. "But I'm trying to lock it down."

Kenny laughed. "I don't blame you, man. Butters is cute as fuck."

"_Teeelll_ me about it." Clyde nodded dreamily - then checked himself, straightening up with a grin. "So, are you driving us or not, dude?"

"Fine, whatever." Kenny rolled his eyes and began walking back to his car. "Just know that if you guys hook up, I want _all _the gory details."

"Pervert." Clyde tossed, punching Kenny in the shoulder.

"Butters!" Clyde cried cheerfully once he and Kenny had returned, "we're all set! Let's go!"

Butters looked up, bit his lip and nodded. Clyde noticed Butters seemed..._subdued_, somehow, but he didn't exactly have time to ask him about it.

"Get in losers, we're going shopping." Kenny said slyly, sliding into the driver's seat.

Clyde looked at Butters hopefully. "Want shotgun?"

Butters blanched. The very thought of sitting next to to Kenny for a whole car ride made his palms sweaty and his knees weak. "N-n-n-_no_!" Butters sputters, vehemently shaking his head, "The b-b-back seat is f-f-_fine_."

"Are you sure, dude? I mean -"

Butters climbs into Kenny's Mustang before Clyde can finish that sentence, slides as far over to one side as he can get, and buckles his seatbelt with slightly trembling hands. Clyde shrugs and takes the passenger seat as the old car's big engine roars to life and the radio cuts in with a blast of music. Butters hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. He would have laid down on the _floor _of the car if he could. _Calm down, Butters! It's just a short drive, is all! Clyde's gonna realize something's up if I don't act normal._ Butters took a deep breath, nervously wet his lips, and forced himself to look up. The first thing he noticed were Kenny's eyes - or more specifically, Kenny's eyes reflected in his rearview mirror - gazing back at him. Kenny was studying him with equal parts amusement and curiosity. Butters shivered, immediately dropping his eyes. So much for acting normal.

"You okay back there, Butters?" Kenny asked as he drove out of the parking lot, laughter in his voice.

Butters nodded, squeezing his hands together in his lap._ Why can't I talk when I'm around him?_ Butters thought miserably, biting his lip once more. _Why am I such an idiot…?_

"Dude, the _fuck _is up with your musical choices?" Clyde complained, fiddling with the dials on the radio, "Every other station is some weird, new-age jazz or hillbilly rock's greatest hits."

"It's called _house _and _classic rock_, and it's good." Kenny shot back. "Nobody wants to listen to the bubblegum pop bullshit you listen to."

"Just because I like songs written _this decade_ with lyrics you can actually understand and maybe even _dance to_, doesn't mean it's bubblegum pop, you pretentious fuck." Clyde shot right back. "I'll have you know my taste in music is _eclectic_."

"Right. _Eclectic_." Kenny snorted derisively. "I don't think that word means what you think it means."

"It _means _I like funk and electric. Duh."

"_No_, it doesn't! How many times have I told you to stop spouting random words out of the dictionary, dude? You don't sound smarter, you just look like an idiot."

"Whatever. You're an ass-clown."

"Great."

"You have a _really _stupid fucking haircut, too."

"Wow." Kenny rolled his eyes. "How will I ever recover from such stunningly articulate comebacks?"

"Get plenty of rest, drink lots of fluids and come back to me when you bring your A-game, bruh." Clyde replied, grinning. He fiddled with the radio some more, rapidly switching from station to station, until he landed on a song with a deep, thumping bassline. "Fuck yeah!"

(_You know what it is! Errything I do, I do it big…_)

"The hell is _this_?" Kenny grumbled.

(_Screaming that's nothing! What I pulled off the lot, that's stunting…_)

Clyde jacked up the sound until the car was vibrating and music was pouring out of the Mustang's windows, "_Black stripe, yellow paint, I hear them scared of it but them bros ain't…_"

"Dude -"

"_Soon as I hit the club look at them hoes' face, hit the pedal once make the floor shake! Suede inside, my engine roarin', it's the big boy you know what I payed for it _-"

"Turn back to the classic rock station." Kenny ordered. Clyde made a face.

_(Black and yellow black and yellow black and yellow black and yellow…_)

"Dude, no way! That shit's _lame_."

"_This_ is fucking _lame_!"

"Dude, _whatever_. Let's just let Butters decide." Clyde said, turning down the radio. "Yo Butters, what should we listen to?"

Butters didn't reply.

"Butters?" Clyde swiveled around in his seat to look at him. The blonde-haired boy was sitting very, very quietly, staring down at his hands with a look of intense concentration on his face. "Butters?_ Dr. Stotch_? Dude, you alive back there?"

Butters crashed back to reality with a jerk. "Wha-wuh?" He stammered, reddening.

"Music," Clyde chuckled, "what kind of music do you think is better? Kenny's hillbilly hipster shit -"

"_Classic rock _and _house_."

"- or my funky-fresh _eclectic _grooves?"

"You're using that word _wrong_, dude."

Butters opened and closed his mouth, feeling dazed. He hadn't been paying the _slightest _bit of attention to the conversation. Now _two _sets of eyes were locked on him - Kenny's sapphire blues in the rearview mirror and Clyde's warm hazel ones. Butters felt trapped.

"U-u-umm…" Butters swallowed hard, then blurted, "Jus' t-t-turn to some R&B or somethin'."

"Huh?" Clyde and Kenny exchanged puzzled looks.

Butters winced, but he couldn't back out now. "Wuh-well, I l-like smooth R&B…uh..."

"Really?" Clyde's lips quirked in a smile, and he turned away to flip through the stations until a softer song was playing. "Something like this?"

(_All I want to do right now is love you down...I don't give a damn about who hears the sound. (Ooh...) We'll be in the groove until the sun comes up. Together we'll get lost inside the love..._)

"Hmmmm." Kenny murmured, grinning wickedly.

(_Let's make a love scene, steamy and blue. Erotic memories, for an audience of two..._)

"This is...a nice song." Clyde hedged, glancing over his shoulder at Butters with a small smile. Butters rather liked Clyde's confident, daring action hero smile, but this was totally different. It was teasing, a little suggestive, like a naughty note passed around in class or a hug from behind followed by a searing kiss on the neck. Innocent, mostly. Until it wasn't. That smile made Butters's chest feel funny, but he immediately brushed it off. He was sitting in Kenny's car, currently dying a slow, embarrassing death. Of _course _his chest felt funny.

(_And we'll make a love scene, let the foreplay begin. And replay each moment, again and again and again…_)

Butters wanted to melt into his seat. Just disappear right into the fabric. Or better yet, open the car door and hurl himself into oncoming traffic. _I could always go back to Mexico. Viva la Mantequilla. _

"Dude, smooth R&B's pretty _awesome_." Clyde said when the song finally ended. "It's -"

"Don't say _eclectic_."

Clyde and Kenny argued for another twenty minutes, until Kenny pulled up in front a giant sign that read _South Park Tri-County Fair_! in huge cursive letters. Butters shot out of the car so fast it was almost as if he'd been spring-propelled.

"You kids have fun." Kenny called from the driver's seat, winking. "I'll be back later to pick you up, asshole."

"Make it _much _later," Clyde replied, waving Kenny off, "ready, Butters?"

"Y-yeah. Let's go!" Butters answered, as enthusiastically as he could manage. He tried not to look over his shoulder and watch longingly as Kenny drove off.

* * *

Clyde had to admit it. Butters was right - fairs were fucking _awesome_!

Clyde happily took another bite out of his funnel cake, smearing powdered sugar all over his mouth. Butters was sitting beside him, his own deep-fried treat covered with whipped cream and fresh strawberries. The blonde-haired boy ate his funnel cake with a fork, neat and civilized, but he didn't seem to mind Clyde's total lack of manners. Craig and Token had always gotten pissed off at him because he couldn't help getting stains on his shirt and bits of food all over his face. Butters just giggle-snorted, reaching up once or twice to wipe Clyde's face with a napkin. Clyde _could _have been less messy - he wasn't a _total _slob, no matter what his friends thought - but Butters was _adorable _and Clyde was kind of starting to love it when he touched him, even briefly. Butters looked up and smiled, and Clyde smiled right back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"That was real fun, Clyde!" Butters said, reaching over to readjust Dr. Bearington on the bench beside him. Dr. Bearington was the name Butters had given the gigantic stuffed bear Clyde had won for him playing some stupid dart game. The toy was almost as big as Butters was, with fluffy white fur, a plastic stethoscope glued to its neck, and a bright green surgical cap on its head. Clyde's shoulder _ached _from all the darts he'd had to throw to win the damn thing, and he'd blown through almost all of the cash he brought with him tonight, but the happiness on Butters's face as he handed Dr. Bearington over had been _priceless_.

Clyde had been watching Butters for most of the day, in fact. The blonde-haired boy was clearly getting more out of this than Clyde was. The South Park tri-county fair was a _hopelessly _un-cool place, but Butters couldn't have cared less how lame the rides were, or the fact that every game was a blatant rip-off. The fair was cheap, hokey and reeked of pig shit - and Butters _loved _it. He was _genuinely _excited to be here, and had dragged Clyde from attraction to attraction, talking almost non-stop. Holy _shit_ could Butters _talk_. The blonde-haired boy would go on and on about _anything, _if you let him. He wasn't annoying the way _Kyle _could be annoying, though, all smarmy and wasp-tongued. Butters's chatter ranged from downright silly to surprisingly insightful, but he was always so _sincere _about everything he said. The blonde-haired boy had a warmth and honesty that made him ridiculously easy to talk to. Butters was like a double-helping of your favorite meal - he filled you up and just made you _feel good_, usually without even trying.

"Thanks for taking me to the fair," Butters went on, glancing down shyly, "I-I know it's kinda dumb, but I jus' really like this stuff, is all."

"Dude, no problem," Clyde replied, his smile soft, "like I said, it was my pleasure! I would _totally _do this again."

"R-really?" Butters's expression was hopeful, a little cautious, as if he didn't quite believe him. Clyde scooted closer, so that their shoulders were almost touching.

"_Really_, dude. _Any _time. With bells on. If you ever want to go again, just call me. I'll make it happen." Clyde said, his voice as serious as it ever got. Butters blushed a little, nodded happily, and took another bite of funnel cake. He got a dab of whipped cream on the corner of his mouth, and Clyde had to fight the urge to lean in and lick it off. Clyde could just imagine the cool, sweet taste of the cream paired with Butters's warm, soft-looking lips. Butters would probably get all flustered and red, but Clyde would _totally _say something smooth and sexy, then they would _totally _make out! _Oh yeah, baby! _Clyde thought about it some more, then laughed softly, dispelling the fantasy. Licking whipped cream off of someone's face was a move only _Kenny_ could pull off gracefully. In reality, he'd probably end up _slobbering _all over Butters while the other boy knocked him over the head with Mister - excuse me, _Doctor_ - Bearington and ran off shouting for an adult.

"What's so funny?" Butters asked, looking at Clyde curiously.

"Nothin'," Clyde said, pointing at Butters's face, "you have something right there."

Butters wiped his mouth as Clyde drummed his fingers along the rickety old bench. They were sitting outside the fairgrounds, waiting for Kenny to pick them up. Kenny said he'd be here in thirty minutes, but Clyde knew from experience that it was never a good idea to hold McCormick to a set time. Thirty minutes could easily become an hour depending on what - or _who_ - Kenny was doing.

"_Soooo_," Clyde said, leaning in a little with a sly grin, "tell me, Butters. Since you like people so much, have you ever...had a _crush _on anyone in school?"

Butters choked a little on the last bit of his funnel cake, his cheeks filling with color. "N-no! N-never!"

"Aw _c'mon_, that can't be true."

"R-really, it's _true_!" Butters insisted. Clyde just rolled his eyes, clearly not believing him. Butters had always been a _terrible _liar. "_R-really,_ Clyde, there's n-no one! S-seriously, I swear!"

"_Fine_, okay! You don't have to get so panicky!" Clyde replied, chuckling, trying to calm Butters down. "Forget I asked."

"O-okay…" Butters nervously bumped his knuckles together, looking down._ Real smooth Butters, you dummy!_

"_Soooo_…" Clyde drawled after a moment, "hypothetically speaking. What sort of _qualities_...or _traits_.._.physical attributes_, shall we say?" Clyde gestured casually, "Would you be looking for in someone you liked? _Purely _hypothetical."

Butters's eyes shot up, his voice high and squeaky. "I-I don't really...u-um…"

"Everyone knows what they're looking for in another person, dude." Clyde said patiently. "Even when you don't know, you _know_."

Butters bit his lip, forcefully expelling the air from his lungs in a sigh. If he didn't give Clyde a satisfactory answer, Butters suspected the brown-haired boy would just keep pestering him about it. Clyde _did _have a point._ It's just a question…_

"Someone nice." Butters mumbled eventually. "Someone...I can be myself with, an' have lots of fun an' long conversations."

"Uh-huh?" Clyde nodded, hanging on to every word. "Yeah…?"

"I-I guess I want somebody who will love me for me," Butters said, rubbing the back of his neck with a wistful smile, "somebody who will make me laugh when I'm feelin' sad, an' stick up for me 'cause I have problems doin' that myself." Butters flushed. "Somebody who likes cuddlin' an' singin' in the shower! M-maybe somebody who's spontaneous, 'cause I get scared doin' things by myself, even when I really, really want to. Somebody that makes me feel brave, an' safe. Somebody who'll kiss me before I go to bed."

Butters stopped, belatedly realizing that he'd been going on a lot longer than he'd intended. He cleared his throat nervously, shrugging. "Aw, I dunno. I'm jus' ramblin'. T-this is all real silly, probably."

Silence.

Butters blinked, looking up at Clyde, wondering why the brown-haired boy gone so quiet. "Clyde?"

Clyde was staring at him, staring _hard_. Butters actually jumped a little, startled by the intensity in his normally playful hazel eyes. Clyde's expression was very strange, a little awestruck, a little disbelieving, as if he had stumbled across something he'd never seen before. There was something else in his eyes too, something that made Butters feel all squirmy inside. He grabbed Dr. Bearington for support, leaning away as Clyde leaned in, sudden and far too intimate for Butters's comfort. Butters tried to scoot away on the bench, but he was already on the very edge, and if he scooted any more his ass would be sitting in the dirt.

"What if I could be all that for you?" Clyde asked, his voice a low timbre meant only for the small space between them.

"Wuh-wha…"

"What if seeing you happy made me so happy I always wanted to see you happy? And I fought anyone or anything that threatened you because you meant so much to me? What if I cuddled you _in _the shower and sang there too, and you never, _ever _felt scared 'cause you knew I'd always have your back? What if I _spontaneously_ kissed you whenever you wanted, not just before bed?" Clyde smiled, slow and gentle. "Would you like me?"

Butters's heart was doing crazy things in his chest, not just _thumps _but flip-flops and spins. His mouth was _very _dry. "I-Is...is...this a hypothetical q-question?" He whispered stupidly, feeling as if he'd just marathoned the tilt-a-whirl. Clyde laughed, and _damn it_, Butters was reminded again how nice Clyde's laugh was, lively and reassuring all at once, the kind of laugh that made you want to laugh along, to go with the flow.

"Maybe." Clyde replied, dropping a sly wink. "Maybe not. For the sake of the discussion, let's go with a 'Nah, I'm dead-serious' and see what happens."

Butters was squeezing poor Dr. Bearington for dear life, desperately trying to keep his hands from shaking. "A-are yuh-you flirtin' with m-me?" He blurted, his brain-to-mouth filter obviously suffering a severe malfunction. _Oh Jesus, Butters,_ he thought, wincing as Clyde raised a brow._ How can you be so gosh-darned, incredibly, amazingly fucking STUPID? Who asks someone a thing like that? Mom and Dad used to say you were stupid, and they're right, they're one-hundred percent - _

"_Yes_, dude." Clyde answered without missing a beat, rolling his eyes almost affectionately. "Is it working?"

_NO! _Part of him wanted to shout, the part that was angrily trying to remind him that he was _supposed _to be in love with Kenny. _Now leave me alone!_

_Yes. _A new, smaller part of him whispered from somewhere deep inside. _It's working. A little. _

Butters swallowed, Clyde leaned in a little closer, and for a moment the world held its breath.

Then a cherry-red classic Mustang pulled up, horn blaring, and the scene shattered like a dropped glass. Butters jumped up, hiding his face behind a cupped hand. Clyde scoffed, annoyed.

"Fucking hell, this would be the _one time_ Kenny shows up when he's supposed to." Clyde grumbled, climbing off the bench.

"Are you guys fucking ready? I have to go to work tomorrow!" Kenny yelled over his music, (_I'm in the mood/ The rhythm is right/ Move to the music/ We can roll all night…_) honking his horn again for good measure. "Let's go!"

"Chill out, dude!" Clyde snapped, turning to Butters...but the blonde-haired boy was already heading for the car, quickly reclaiming his place in the back seat.

Clyde sighed, and followed after him. The ride home was mostly uneventful. Kenny cracked sly jokes every now and then and Clyde answered as sarcastically as possible. Clyde kept trying to catch Butters's gaze in the rearview mirror, but the blonde-haired boy stared out the window the entire drive back into town.

* * *

The first thing Butters did when he got back home was take a long, hot shower. His parents grilled him about his evening, but Butters just told them what they wanted to hear ("Yes Mom. Yes Dad. Yes, we're hanging out again tomorrow.") and retreated to the silence and solitude of his room. Butters locked his door and threw himself face-down on the bed, gathering his pillows around his face. His emotions were in such a disarray Butters didn't think he'd be able to sleep tonight, as exhausted as he was.

"Oh _hamburgers_..." He groaned, his voice muffled.

Butters was secretly a _huge _fan of shoujo manga. His bookcase was filled with titles like _Cardcaptor Sakura_ and _Ouran High School Host Club_, all carefully tucked away behind regular novels and the medical journals he'd been collecting since freshman year. Nobody knew. Not his parents, not Eric or Stan and Kyle, (_especially_ not them!) and Butters was happy to keep it that way. The guys would have teased him _mercilessly _if they ever found out, and his parents...well, Stephen and Linda didn't need any more reasons to think he was weirder than they already _did_. They barely tolerated him reading anything less than educational anyway. Clyde had _sort of_ discovered his secret the day he was in his room, but to Clyde it had all just looked like 'comic books'. Butters hadn't bothered to explain much more than that. He just loved the stories. Romance! Drama! Action and adventure! Exciting stories with plucky heroines! As far as Butters was concerned, it was _much _better than reading about some guy dressed up as a bat still whining about his dead parents.

In shoujo mangas, the heroine always worked up the courage to confess to the senpai love interest. It always looked so _great_ - two people admitting their feelings for each other, while cherry blossoms danced in an idyllic breeze. In reality, that shit was _hard_ and _terrifying_. Butters knew, because he had tried.

He had been in love with Kenny ever since they were children. Butters had decided a long time ago that they were Meant To Be. Why not? He had never felt _anything _like what he felt for the McCormick boy, and over the years, the feeling had only grown stronger. Butters had tried to tell Kenny how he felt so many times he'd lost count. He always chickened out at the last moment, paralyzed by Kenny's easy smile, his dark blue eyes. The way he always greeted him with a _Hey, Butters, _soft and casual, never annoyed by his presence, never angry or condescending. Every time Butters chickened out he would promise himself_ next time, next time I'll do it,_ but _next time _never seemed to happen and Kenny...well, he was never alone for long.

Butters had heard all the tales. _McCormick was an unabashed man-whore who had slept with half the student body and fucked at least three or four of his best friends_ (which three or four, Butters didn't know). Butters had also heard _other _things, whispered in the halls when nobody thought he was listening. Supposedly, Kenny had worked as a rentboy when times were tough in order to take care of his little sister, when their parents _truly _became useless fucking drug addicts, before his brother Kevin acquired his auto shop. Hearing those things made Butters so sad he cried about it sometimes. He wasn't sure _what _to believe, what was actually true and what was just a product of the vicious high school grapevine, taking stories in its maw and chewing until they became frothed and unrecognizable.

All Butters knew what that he loved him, and always had. The thing was, six years of trying and _failing_ to express how he truly felt had made Butters _hopelessly _nervous and awkward whenever he was around Kenny now. He could barely even look him in the eye without suffering a mini panic-attack. He _hated _feeling so anxious, so...so _useless_.

This had been going on for so long that Butters had just about given up on the whole idea. Now that Kenny was away from his parents and had an apartment of his own with his little sister, he seemed so much _happier_, happier than Butters could remember seeing him. Butters had mostly convinced himself that he was satisfied with seeing Kenny doing better.

And now, Clyde.

Butters sat up, furiously shaking his head. Clyde was so nice, so _funny_, and he had nice eyes and an even nicer smile and Butters couldn't remember ever having so much _fun _-

"N-now, you stop it right now, Butters!" Butters whispered fiercely to himself, his aquamarine eyes narrowing.

How could he give up on _Kenny_? No, there was only one thing to do! He _had_ to confess, Butters decided, setting Dr. Bearington down on the bed beside him. No backing out. It was now or never. The only reason he was even _thinking _of Clyde so much was because his unrequited feelings for Kenny were leaking over...somehow.

That's how it worked, wasn't it?

One thing was certain, he couldn't be alone with Clyde anymore. There was just too much room for wrong messages.

(_"What if seeing you happy made me so happy I always wanted to see you happy?"_)

It was bad enough Kenny had seen them together, he probably thought they were _dating_.

(_"What if I spontaneously kissed you whenever you wanted, not just before bed?") _

Butters shivered, yet his body was heating up. No, he could _not _be alone with Clyde. What he needed was _buffer_. Someone who could take the pressure off.

But who? Who could he get last minute who wouldn't get too pissed off at him for "accidentally" neglecting to mention Clyde was coming along? Butters toyed with his phone, cycling through a list of candidates, each more terrible than the last, before he finally landed on a name near the end.

Kevin Stoley.

* * *

_Music:_

_Black and Yellow - Wiz Khalifa /The Love Scene - Joe /Slow Ride - Foghat_


	8. 8 (part one!)

**8.**

**part one: the drawing of the three **

* * *

Clyde had been frowning at his reflection in the bedroom mirror for the last fifteen minutes.

Not because he _disliked _the way he looked, or anything like that. Honestly, Clyde had always thought he looked pretty damn _good. _Screw Bebe and her fucking list! Clyde knew he was a babe and carried himself as such. Sure, he may not have been as handsome as Kenny, but then again, who _was_? McCormick could be a real dick-munch sometimes, but even Clyde had to admit the dude was one _fine _motherfucker. Still, if Kenny was a 10, then Clyde figured he was_ at least_ an 8.5. He got an extra half-point for his personality alone.

Clyde thoughtfully bit his lip, turning this way and that. He had ditched his letterman jacket for once in favor of a sleeveless hockey shirt (he wanted to show off the arms) and his favorite pair of loose, dark-colored jeans, which were totally his favorite because they were the only pair he owned without holes in the knees. Normally Clyde didn't give two shits about what he wore. He wasn't an undercover fashionista like Token, but he wasn't quite as hopeless as Tweak, who occasionally came to school looking like he'd slept under a bridge all night. Clyde dressed casually in clean clothes that fit him (_usually_), and had a preference for letterman jackets and T-shirts with bright, trendy logos. He had never spent more than ten minutes getting dressed for anything, but today was different. Today, there was _definitely _someone he wanted to impress.

Clyde never, _ever _would have thought_ Butters Stotch_ would be the reason he was preening in front of the mirror like a nervous schoolgirl, yet here he was. There was no use trying to deny it, he had slipped into full-on crush mode, and slipped _hard_. Butters was just so...so _warm_, so adorable, so compassionate and encouraging and genuine and _holy shit_, why hadn't Clyde ever realized any of this before? He had practically grown up with the kid! Clyde couldn't count how many times he'd sat next to Butters in class, exchanged words with him in the hallways, and played with him and the rest of the guys after school. They'd had_ all sorts_ of crazy adventures together. Yet in all that time, Clyde had never bothered to give Butters a second thought. He was just..._Butters_, a small, naive, easily manipulated classmate, barely worth _anyone's_ attention. It had taken a chance encounter to open Clyde's eyes, and now…

Now, Butters was all he could think about. Fuck, if he'd known then what he knew now, he would have been _all over that. _They could have been a serious couple by now! _Argh_!

_Face it, Clyde, you were waaayyy too hung up over Craig to notice anybody, let alone Butters. _Clyde sighed. It was true, and it sucked balls. Craig Tucker had been the secret love of his life once upon a time, but that hadn't worked out the way Clyde thought it would (not even slightly). Now that he'd finally found someone he really, _really _liked, he couldn't seem to get it together.

Part of the problem was that Butters was sort of a puzzle. He had always treated _everyone _with the same level of kindness, so it was impossible to tell from Butters's actions alone if he genuinely liked you, or was just being nice. He could have despised every fucking person in school for all anyone knew (Clyde hoped not). And while Butters definitely seemed like the sort of person who didn't care too much about looks, he could go on and on about the roundness of Kim Kardashian's ass. Yep, the kid was a real enigma. Butters was like that mystery flavor in a bag of Dum Dums lollipops. You had to unwrap it and really _suck _on it to figure it out -

Whoa, whoa, _whoa_. Clyde flushed, his stomach tightening. Change of topic, like _right now_. If Clyde thought too hard about _Butters _and _unwrapping _and _sucking_, he'd be here all day.

Clyde squinted at his reflection in the mirror, trying to be critical. His hair was a _blah_-ish brown color, cut in the same messy style he'd been rocking since elementary. Clyde's skin was nice and clear though, and his eyes were totally one of his best features, a cool hazel color unlike anyone else's. He didn't have fucked up teeth, thanks to his father's sweet dental plan. Clyde wasn't _jacked_ or anything like that, but he'd been playing for one team or another since he was a kid, so he had a pretty nice build. He flexed experimentally, then grinned. Heck yeah, look at that! _Muscles_, baby!

"Does anybody know a good vet? 'Cause these pythons are _sick_, chyeah!" Clyde whooped, flashing himself a thumbs-up. Did he say an 8.5 earlier? Dude, make that a _solid _9!

_What if Butters doesn't like the way I look?_

The thought was so disturbing Clyde's eyes widened in distress. What if Butters thought he was _ugly_, or smelled funny? Clyde sniffed an armpit, suddenly paranoid. Nope, he smelled good! Like soap and deodorant. Still, maybe he should sneak some of his Dad's cologne, just in case…

_Dude! Calm down! You're kinda freaking out right now. _Clyde shook his head to clear it, turning resolutely away from the mirror. He _was _freaking out, but it was only because he hadn't _felt _this way about anyone in a really long time. The _one _person he had been down to do a little somethin' somethin' with had sort've screwed him over, then fallen madly in love with someone else. By the time Clyde got over his heartbreak, everyone he might have been interested in dating was already with someone. _Or they never liked me to begin with. _

He just had to play it cool. Which was easier said than done, when it came to Butters. He had laid it on pretty thick last night at the fair, but Clyde could have _sworn_ Butters seemed into it, before Kenny had interrupted their moment. Listening to Butters talk about his ideal person, seeing the wistful longing in his face, had made Clyde's chest ache in a good way. He had wanted to kiss Butters _so badly_, more than he'd ever wanted to kiss _anyone_, even Craig-fucking-Tucker. Clyde still couldn't believe he _hadn't_. The love Butters had described had sounded so _amazing_, so perfectly _perfect _and _awesome_, Clyde knew he wanted to be Butters's special someone. _For the rest of my life, even. Yeah, that would be friggin' sweet. _

So _maybe _he'd been starved for affection ever since his Mom had died, and _maybe _his first somewhat-intimate experience had been so terrible he never wanted to think about it again, and _maybe _he was sick of being the Single Guy in his group of friends. But whenever he thought of Butters, and their potential _together_-ness - _me and Butters, Butters and me, Leopold Stotch-Donovan, Clyde Donovan-Stotch, Us, __**We **_- it just felt _right_. And magical. Like waking up on Christmas morning.

Yeah, he could be a romantic. It was kind've a secret, so..._shh_.

Clyde kicked aside a somewhat smelly pile of clothes and rooted under his bed. When he came up with nothing but dirty magazines and moldy socks, he went to the closet, carelessly tossing out his pee-wee hockey sticks, the trophy he won for MVP one year (Stan Marsh had been _so _pissed, it was hilarious), and part of his old Mosquito costume before he finally found what he was looking for.

"Flashlights! _Fuck _yeah."

The pair of flashlights he found had barely been used, but Clyde popped new batteries into them anyway. He was taking Butters on an _adventure. _It was going to be _awesome. _And with any luck, his tongue would be negotiating a new contract with Butters's mouth before the week was out.

* * *

Kevin Stoley had been his classmate and distant acquaintance for what seemed like _forever_. Butters didn't really get to _know _the guy until their freshman year of high school, when they were assigned to do a project together for a Biology class.

The project had involved a poster board as well as a ten-minute oral presentation, and as if _that _hadn't been bad enough, the whole thing was worth twenty percent of their final grade. Butters could remember panicking a little, hoping he wouldn't get Cartman for a partner (Eric would have made him do all that work by _himself_). When he was paired with Kevin, it had been both a relief and a surprise. Kevin had always kept to himself in school. Not in a _shy _way, no. It was more like Kevin Stoley had his own thing going on - things that kept him _busy_ - and he didn't much care if you thought those things were cool or not. It was strange, but Kevin Stoley had always sort of reminded Butters of Craig Tucker. They both occupied a world of their own. If you wanted to be part of it, fine. If you didn't, fine, _whatever_. Life goes on. Kevin was _nice_, though. Craig had always _scared _Butters. Just a little. Everyone knew Tucker just wanted to be left alone, but that didn't make the guy any less intimidating. There were _teachers _who were afraid of Craig Tucker.

Kevin turned out to be a _great _artist, so he handled the poster board while Butters did the research for the oral presentation. They did most of the work at Kevin's house, Butters on the couch with his laptop while Kevin sat on the floor surrounded by poster paint, permanent markers and colored pencils, carefully hand-drawing everything. If it were up to Butters, he would have found some nice pictures on the internet, printed them out and glued them on, but Kevin would hear of _no _such thing. He learned a lot about the guy during the two weeks they worked on their project. Kevin was a quiet person, _especially _compared to Butters, who had a tendency to ramble. Whenever he did talk, it was always to drop important facts or interesting little tidbits about himself, always so _casually_, as if he were commenting on the weather. Kevin wanted to be an architect, or maybe a sculptor. He loved comic books, video games and chess. Stoley wanted to spend a year or two studying abroad in China, and had a fondness for classical music. What he _really _loved though, what got him talking more than _anything _else, was science fiction.

Butters didn't know diddly-squat about sci-fi. He had seen Star Wars _once_, and while he liked the movie well enough, he didn't exactly get what the_ big deal_ was. Butters could barely tell the_ Millennium Falcon_ from a peregrine falcon, and his knowledge of Star Trek was even worse. Who was Captain Kirk again? Why was Spock so important? Did anyone _actually _take William Shatner seriously? Was it considered offensive to tell a Star Wars fan to live long and prosper? It was all so _confusing_.

Butters finally had to admit he had no idea what Stoley was talking about half the time. Kevin had just looked surprised, then sort of disappointed, as if he'd expected more of Butters.

"Oh," he said, quietly going back to his poster, "I'm...sorry. Sometimes I forget not everybody is into this stuff like I am. We can talk about something else."

Butters had cocked his head, confused. "Wuh-well, we don't have to talk about something else…I don't know too much about this stuff, but it was _interestin'_! I wanted to hear more!"

Kevin had glanced up, his brows raised above his distinctive dark eyes. "Really?"

"Sure, Kev! I wouldn't have asked if I didn't." Butters smiled. Kevin had just looked at him for a moment, as if he wasn't quite sure how to react, before he finally smiled back.

"Well...if you _really _want to know more, I'm happy to teach you." Kevin replied, nodding sagely. He was always doing that, Butters had noticed. Nodding _sagely. _Kevin didn't nod like the other kids in school, he nodded like someone's wise old _grandfather_. It was a nod that seemed to say, _Go my son. I have nothing left to show you._ Butters thought it was a little strange, and awfully cute.

"Neat-o!" Butters said, grinning. His enthusiasm had earned him a rare laugh from Stoley that day.

They got an 'A' on their project, and were surprisingly good friends afterward. Kevin had even agreed to be part of the "Tutoring Squad" Butters had started in school. Butters still didn't know diddly-squat about sci-fi, but Kevin loved to talk about it and Butters loved to listen. He suspected there were very few people Kevin could discuss this stuff with. The other guys always got so annoyed, especially Eric - but then again, _everything _annoyed Eric. Butters had never _not _seen Cartman annoyed.

"Hello, Butters." Kevin said, strolling up the Stotch driveway. He seemed surprised to see Butters sitting on the front steps leading to his house, waiting for him. Butters jumped up with a slightly nervous smile, waving.

"H-hi Kev! Um, wuh-what's up?" Butters greeted, hoping he didn't sound as guilty as he felt. How did Eric plan so many nefarious schemes without losing sleep at night? Butters was technically tricking two people he considered friends into hanging out with him today, and he felt so bad about it he had nearly called the whole thing off _twice_.

"You said you wanted to order a pizza and marathon the first season of Stargate SG-1," Kevin pointed out, as if Butters needed reminding, "it's such a _great_ series, I'm sure you won't be disappointed. It was based on a film by Dean Devlin and Roland Emmerich, so -" Kevin paused, confusion stealing briefly across his face once he realized Butters hadn't moved an inch, "Um, aren't we going inside?"

"Wuh-well, uh…um..." Butters swallowed nervously, an inner voice screaming_ Abort! Abort! _Then Clyde rode up, as if he'd been waiting for his cue.

Clyde was on a dirt-bike of all things, and pulled into the driveway with a squeal of tires that made Kevin jump back in alarm.

"The _fuuunnn _has _arrrivvved_," Clyde said in a sing-song voice as he leapt off his bike, smiling smugly, "thank you, thank you _very _much...eh?" Clyde blinked, noticing Kevin for the first time. "Dude...what's _this _guy doing here?"

"I was just about to ask _you _the same thing." Kevin replied dryly, brushing the dust Clyde had kicked up off his jeans. "_I_ am here to watch SG-1 with Butters."

"SG-_what_?" Clyde laughed, shaking his head. "Seriously, dude?"

"What's so funny about that?" Kevin shot back, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, besides the obvious _nerd _factor,_ I'm_ here to hang out with Butters." Clyde replied, crossing his arms. "So _there_."

"What?" Kevin shook his head in disbelief, whirling on Butters. "You're hanging out with_ Clyde Donovan_? _Why_?"

"Hey!" Clyde snapped, affronted, "Why _wouldn't _Butters want to hang out with me?"

"N-now fellas, there seems to have been some misunderstandin' here!" Butters said, stepping between the two. _Time for some quick thinkin', Butters! What would Eric do in this situation?_

"Misunderstanding?" Kevin repeated, rolling his eyes. "_I'll_ say. Why would Butters want to spend a Saturday afternoon hanging out with some brain-dead jock, when he could be watching an _excellent _program like SG-1, hmm? Now _run along_, we've got things to do."

"_Brain-dead jock_?" Clyde was incensed, "You wanna_ throw down_ or something, dude?"

"Guys…" Butters whined, "C'mon -"

"How typical," Kevin replied, unphased, "instead of responding with an _intelligent _rebuttal, the brain-dead jock resorts to fisticuffs. No, I will not _throw down_. Unlike yourself, I have nothing to prove."

"_What_?" Clyde's mind was boggled. "_Jesus_. You're such a fucking nerd you can't even insult someone properly, dude!"

"It wasn't meant to be an insult," Kevin pointed out calmly, "I'm surprised your father allows you to go outside with your grades. The history club is still passing around your '_Abraham Lincoln started WW 1_' paper."

"Guys -"

"Okay, first off, who the fuck starts a _club _for _history_? You nerds are un-fucking-_believable_, dude! And two...why are people passing around my essays?" Clyde flushed. "It's not funny, that stuff's supposed to be _confidential_!"

"The spelling and grammar mistakes alone are _hilarious_."

"Guys!" Butters shouted, exasperated. Clyde and Kevin both turned to stare. "Kevin, that's_ not nice_, I'm sure Clyde tried his best! An' Clyde, don't call Kev a nerd! I mean, _gosh_, whaddya think of _me_?"

"I...I…" Clyde stammered, abashed._ I think you're amazing, Butters. _

"I apologize." Kevin said, inclining his head. "That wasn't very Jedi of me."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too, dude."

"Good," Butters sighed, "look, um, I jus' thought we could all hang out _together_! I...uh, I wanted it to be a _surprise_!" He added, hoping they would buy it.

"You...want _me _to hang out with _Clyde_?" Kevin said, frowning thoughtfully. Even Clyde looked confused now. "All of us _together_?"

"Wuh-well sure! Doesn't that sound fun!?"

"I mean…" Kevin looked helpless, shaking his head. "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, I just don't _get _it. Why, exactly, do you want me to come along? Is this...are you two…" Kevin glanced between Clyde and Butters, his eyes widening with horrified realization, "are you _dating_?"

Butters's face went scarlet, and he began fidgeting madly, tongue-tied with embarrassment. Surprisingly, Clyde answered, slowly shaking his head.

"It's not a _date_, it's an _adventure_!" Clyde retorted.

"An...adventure?" Butters repeated, his cheeks cooling a little. "R-really?"

"Yeah, dude!" Clyde said, pumping a fist in the air, "We're going to have the best, most _exciting _adventure _ever_, courtesy of _moi._"

"_Really_?! Wow, Clyde!" Butters exclaimed, his aquamarine eyes shining. He _loved _adventures!

Kevin stared at the two of them as if they'd both gone insane, then rolled his eyes. "Wow. _No_."

"Aww, c'mon Kev, you _have _to come!" Butters pleaded, "Everyone knows an adventure should have _at_ _least _three people!"

"Butters, I know you want Kevin to tag along, but there's just no convincing this guy." Clyde said, smoothly wrapping an arm around Butters's sweater-clad shoulders. "The dude probably wants to get back to his Captain Kirk body-pillow _asap_. Maybe masturbate to that one scene in Episode One where Obi-what's-his-face cut Darth Scary-Guy in half with his laser sword."

"I most certainly do _not_!" Kevin shouted, offended. "You know what? No. I see what this is."

"Yuh-you do?" Butters said, surprised.

"You do?" Clyde arched a skeptical brow.

"Yes," Kevin said, with another sage nod, "I do."

Kevin studied Butters thoughtfully. Butters stared right back, a bland, clueless smile on his face. It was _so_ _obvious _this was a date, despite what Clyde had claimed. Kevin _never _would have thought these two would strike up a romance, but perhaps it was just another example of opposites attracting. It was pretty clear from the way Clyde was hovering around the blonde-haired boy - almost protectively - that he was crazy about him. Still...Kevin could have _sworn _he'd heard a rumor that Butters liked Kenny. Or was it _Eric_? Cartman loved to brag that he could _have Butters any time he liked_, since the blonde-haired boy had been _clinging to his dick since elementary._ _Cartman's _words, not Kevin's. Perhaps Butters was insisting that Kevin tag along because he wanted a chaperone, someone who could keep an eye on things and offer a fair, unbiased opinion. Butters had simply been too shy to ask, so he had made up that story about wanting to watch SG-1 to get him over here. Kevin was tempted to be annoyed, but he could understand. Butters was one of the nicest people Kevin had ever met, but his parents had fucked him up _royally_ in the self-esteem department. Butters didn't exactly _hate _himself, but he didn't _like _himself either. Kevin knew the blonde-haired boy struggled with his own self-worth and peace of mind, and _dating _would only have made that struggle worse - particularly if said date wasn't careful.

_Ahh, I see. This is a trial-and-error situation, _Kevin thought, nodding resolutely,_ Butters isn't sure about Clyde, so he wants me to chaperone them and give him my honest opinion of the guy. _Kevin gave the brown-haired boy a careful once-over, rubbing his chin. Clyde was a bit of a meat-head, but he didn't seem like the type of person who would take advantage of Butters. Still, Kevin was happy to help any way he could. The Jedi were fair and honest counselors, after all!

"Jesus _Christ_, are you just going to _stand there_ nodding to yourself like a jackass all day?" Clyde demanded with a huff.

"No," Kevin answered, his tone somber, "I know now what I must do. Fear not, I shall accompany you on this...adventure."

"The fuck? Why are you _talking _like that, dude?"

"Butters," Kevin continued, ignoring Clyde, "you can count on me, my friend."

Butters gave Kevin a quizzical look, his lips quirked in a half-smile. "Umm...thanks?"

Clyde threw his hands up, his tone admitting defeat. "Fine, _whatever_! Can we go now? Butters, you ready?"

"Whoopee!" Butters cried, leaping forward happily. "Heck _yeah _I'm ready!"

"Indeed." Kevin muttered. "This shall be my most _challenging _task yet..."

* * *

"The intrepid explorers traveled far an' wide, overcomin' hardships that would have _crushed _lesser men. Ahead lay their destination - but first they had to brave the dark domain of the _Troll King_. Our heroes hesitated at the mouth of the cave, tryin' to decide if their journey was worth such a risk. This land had claimed the lives of countless adventurers before. Bones littered the ground beneath their feet, a silent testimony to the danger lurkin' around _every corner_ -"

"Butters," Kevin said, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, "what on _earth _are you doing?"

"Narratin'." Butters replied simply, grinning, "Every good adventure needs a narrator!"

"I'll concede that point. This is _hardly _what I would call an adventure, however." Kevin protested, frowning deeply. "_Look_ at this place! It's an accident waiting to happen."

"Sounds like _someone's _scared." Clyde said, his voice smug. "You're more than welcome to wait here, dude."

"I am _not _scared." Kevin snapped, even though he was. Just a little. He couldn't help it, this place was _creepy_. Clyde had led them to an abandoned construction site on the outskirts of town. They had to climb a fence just to get inside - a fence _clearly _labeled with _No Trespassing_ signs, mind you - and Kevin found absolutely _nothing _exciting about wandering around a place littered with trash and sharp objects. Weeds, broken bottles, bits of plywood and rusted pipes lay everywhere. Kevin had even seen a _mattress _pushed up against a half-finished shed, surrounded by cigarette butts and crushed beer cans. If _that _wasn't fucking ominous, Kevin didn't know what _was_.

"Some kids like to have bonfire parties here." Clyde explained when Kevin pointed it out, shrugging carelessly. "Homeless people come here too, I guess. Not many. Chill _out_, dude."

Kevin was trying to chill, he really was. He just couldn't shake the feeling that hanging out with Clyde was going to get them all _molested_, or worse. Butters, on the other hand, couldn't have been happier. The blonde-haired boy had a _vivid _imagination. They weren't shining their flashlights into the pitch-black entrance of a drainage tunnel in the middle of a run-down construction site, oh _nooo_. They were about to enter the dread domain of the _Troll King_! _Whooo_. As far as Butters was concerned, this really _was _just an adventure.

For Kevin, it was an exercise in patience.

"Look, Butters," Kevin said, adopting a reasonable tone, "we _really _shouldn't go in there. Drain tunnels can go on for _miles_. We have no idea where this leads! It's dark and wet, not to mention _extremely _unsanitary, so -"

"Dude! I know _exactly _where it leads! You really think I would go in there if I didn't?"

"Jedi Knight Kevin had his doubts," Butters murmured softly to himself, "but Clyde the Conqueror _knew _this was the only way -"

"Yes, I _really _think you would." Kevin answered, rolling his eyes.

"Dude, just relax and follow me." Clyde said, snapping on his flashlight. The tunnel loomed ahead, its smooth concrete entrance covered with algae. Kevin stifled a groan.

"- and with that, our heroes decided to forge ahead, with the help of _Paladin Butters_!" Butters said, brandishing his flashlight like a sword. "Let's go!"

"See?" Clyde said as Butters and Kevin followed him into the tunnel, flashlights dancing in the gloom, "this isn't so bad, eh?"

"This is _disgusting_." Kevin complained, nimbly dodging a thick tangle of refuse that smelled suspiciously like shit. Graffiti had been scrawled along the walls, and something Kevin _sincerely _hoped was water dripped from the ceiling, but the tunnel seemed to run straight ahead at least. Small mercies. _Where the hell does Donovan think he's taking us? Does he really think a place like this is appropriate? _

"Dude, it's _fine_. You act like Mr. Pennywise is going to _leap _from the shadows and shove a Hello Kitty dildo up your ass." Clyde grumbled.

"Did you just make a reference to Stephen King's _It_?" Kevin asked, taken aback.

Clyde held his flashlight so that it lit him from below, grinning evilly. "_Everything_ floats down here…"

"I liked that book!" Butters piped up, smiling.

"Wow. I must admit, I'm impressed. I didn't think you read anything other than_ Tits n' Vagde _magazine." Kevin dryly replied.

"Ha! Shows what _you _know, dude! _Tits n' Vagde _was discontinued!" Clyde pointed out proudly. Kevin rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Butters," Clyde said, ignoring Stoley, "I think_ It _was a _movie_, not a book."

Butters cocked his head, a sheepish expression on his face. "U-um, I dunno Clyde...I'm pretty sure_ It_ was a book…"

"Butters is right." Kevin agreed, shaking his head.

"Why would Stephen King write a _book _based off his movie?" Clyde demanded. "That's just _stupid_!"

"Maybe because the _book _came first!" Kevin shot back, exasperated.

"Dude, no way. I saw the _movie_ first."

"Just because _you _saw the movie first doesn't mean the _book _wasn't already out there!" Kevin was dangerously close to losing his patience. "Every last one of Stephen King's movies have been _books_ first!"

"Oh yeah? And how much do you wanna bet _nobody _had ever even _heard _of those stupid books until the movies came out?"

"I -" Kevin thought for a moment, trying to frame a quick and devastating retort to Clyde's smug stupidity. There was a reason he was on the debate team, after all. Kevin almost had it all worked out, before he just sighed loudly, throwing up his hands. Sometimes the best - and only - course of action was to give up before you even got started. "Why am I _arguing _with you? You're an idiot."

"Hey!" Butters said, pouting, "it's not nice to call people names."

"It's fine Butters," Clyde replied with a sly smile. "Kevin is clearly just _jealous." _

"Ahh, yes, that's it." Kevin said, peering down the tunnel. He could finally see the exit._ Thank goodness. _"I'm jealous of a pot-smoking, future college dropout. Sounds about right._" Butters, if you're actually interested in dating this guy, we are going to have to have a long, serious conversation about your taste. _

Clyde actually laughed (and to Kevin's shock), executed a slick spin and began dancing, busting moves out across the wet concrete.

"_So, every afternoon drop everything_!" Clyde sang as he danced, "_Who needs to read and write when you can dance and sing? Forget about your algebra and calculus! You can always do your homework on the morning bus! Can't tell a verb from a noun, they're the nicest kids in town_!"

Kevin was _dumbfounded_. It was Butters who caught the reference this time, giggling with delight.

"_Hairspray_!" Butters cried, clapping his hands, "I love that movie!"

Clyde grinned and took Butters by the hand, and they began dancing in unison as Kevin watched, feeling as if someone had just sent him to the Phantom Zone.

"_So, if every night you're shaking as you lie in bed_!" Clyde sang.

"_An' the bass and drums are poundin' in your head_!" Butters sang right back, without missing a beat.

"_Who cares about sleep when you can snooze in school! They'll never get to college, but they'll sure look cool! Don't need a cap and gown when you're the nicest kids in town!" _

Kevin opened and closed his mouth after that little duet, at a loss for words. Finally he muttered darkly, "...my Jedi training did _not _prepare me for this."

"I can't believe you like _Hairspray_." Butters said, beaming up at Clyde.

"_Believe_ it, cutie-pie." Clyde replied, smiling at Butters's slight blush. "I mean, what's not to like? It's John Travolta in drag!"

Butters snorted. "John Travolta is kinda lame, Clyde…"

"_What_?!" Clyde cried, reeling as if Butters had just slapped him in the face. "Dude, John Travolta is _not _lame!_ Saturday Night Fever_! _Grease_! Fucking _Pulp Fiction_, dude!"

Butters looked confused. "Pulp wuh-_what_?"

"_Pulp Fiction,_" Clyde repeated slowly. "Dude. _Duuudddeee_. _Please _tell me you've seen _Pulp Fiction_."

"U-um...n-no?" Butters admitted timidly, "I don't think so?"

Clyde was _horrified_. "How?" He bemoaned, "_Why_? It's _Pulp Fiction_! Quentin Tarantino! I just..._argh_!"

"Even_ I've _seen _Pulp Fiction_." Kevin commented.

"Dude, we _have _to fix this, like, immediately!" Clyde said, grasping Butters by the shoulders. "Tomorrow. My house. Alright?"

"U-uh, um, o-okay?" Butters said, wondering what the big deal was. There were _lots _of movies he hadn't seen. His parents didn't like him watching anything too violent.

"Good." Clyde nodded, satisfied. "Look, we're almost there. Congratulations, Kev, you didn't get raped once!"

"Not for lack of _trying_, I bet." Kevin muttered.

Sunlight was beaming in at the end of the tunnel. Clyde pushed aside a canopy of leafy vines that had grown over the exit, and the other boys followed, breathing in the fresh air.

"_Wow_!" Butters exclaimed, his aquamarine eyes huge with wonder. Even Kevin blinked a little, surprised and impressed.

"Nice, eh?" Clyde asked, smiling. "Do I keep my promises, or do I keep my promises?"

"Wooow!" Butters cried again, bouncing up and down.

The tunnel had opened up on a field of tall grass swaying in a slight breeze. Clumps of wild flowers grew here and there, and a tiny stream glinted in the sunlight off in the distance. To the right was the forest that bordered South Park and Stark's Pond, but to the left the field marched on until it reached the highway to Denver. In the middle of the sea of grass was a single ancient oak tree, its branches stooped and swaying. A makeshift clubhouse had been built amongst the leaves, using materials that only persistence and a child's imagination could have made work. A tire-swing hung from a long length of sturdy rope.

"What _is _this place?" Kevin asked, looking around.

"This," Clyde said, "is our _secret _hangout. Or at least, it used to be." Clyde smiled vaguely, his hazel eyes soft with nostalgia, "Craig - you know Craig - found it first, I think. Then he dragged me out here one day. I complained too," Clyde dropped Kevin a wink, "but Craig was all, _stop being a pussy_! We all used to hang out here. Me and the guys. Token was the one who suggested we build a clubhouse. Stan, Kyle and Eric were most _definitely _not allowed. They never found out about it anyway. This was...our place."

Butters could barely contain his excitement. "Can we use the swing?!"

"Sure, dude. Might want to test it out first, it's been a while."

Butters took off with a whoop, parting the grass. Kevin and Clyde hung back, watching the blonde-haired boy with wry expressions. Kevin cocked an eye at Clyde, a tiny smile on his face.

"You know," he said, "I wasn't so sure about you, Clyde, but...good job."

"Oh?" Clyde chuckled, "Was that a _compliment_? From _Kevin_? Dude, I'm honored."

"Don't get used to it." Kevin said primly. "You're still an _idiot_, but...you seem to make Butters happy. And he _needs _more happiness in his life."

Clyde blinked, but Kevin was already walking away before he could ask him about that._ Huh._

They spent the rest of the day exploring the field and the clubhouse. Clyde was shocked at how well it had held up. Some of the wood they'd used to build the "walls" had fallen off, and the tire-swing was a little creaky, but it didn't budge, even when Clyde jumped on it to test the sturdiness. After a while Kevin settled down at the base of the old oak, whipped a sketchbook out of his tote bag, and carefully began capturing the scenery with light pencil strokes and an expression of intense concentration. Clyde and Butters sat back-to-back on the swing, Butters humming tunelessly while Clyde tried not to freak out over just how warm the blonde-haired boy felt.

"So, have fun?" Clyde inquired. He felt Butters shift as he nodded, followed by his voice, light and cheerful.

"This is a _great _place, Clyde! I can see why you guys didn't want Stan an' Kyle an' Eric findin' out."

"Yeah. Cartman would probably have wanted to take it for himself, and Craig would have flipped right the fuck out." Clyde agreed. Butters giggled softly.

"Actually, there's something else I wanted to show you." Clyde said, checking over his shoulder to make sure Kevin wasn't listening. When he saw Stoley completely engrossed in his sketching, he added, "You can _totally _make wishes here!"

"R-really?"

"Yeah, dude! Wanna see?"

"Wuh-well, _heck _yeah!" Butters slid down from the tire swing, taking his warmth with him. Clyde followed after the excitable blonde-haired boy, wondering if it was a good or bad thing that Butters's smile was starting to give him stupid little butterflies. The last person who'd done that had - but no. He'd promised himself he wouldn't think about it any more.

"Kev, we'll be right back!" Clyde called. Kevin grunted something unintelligible without looking up.

They walked to the stream, and when they reached the water's edge Clyde reached down to pick up a smooth pebble, holding it up. Butters raised a brow, expecting more.

"Um...what's so special about a rock?" He asked, scratching his head.

"Nothing by itself," Clyde allowed, "but legend has it, if you write the name of something you want on a pebble from this stream and toss it in, it'll totally, like, come true!" Butters looked amazed.

"Gosh! Where'd you hear this?"

"Dude, it's a _legend_! Passed down from _generations_!" Clyde replied, grinning. The truth was that it was probably some story Kenny or Craig had made up while they were both high out of their minds, but who _cared _how legends got started, right?

Butters reached down to pick a pebble up for himself, looking thoughtful. "Can I...can I wish for _anything_?"

"Sure, why not?" Clyde said, rooting around in the pockets of his jeans. He whipped out a permanent marker triumphantly. "_Bam_! Wish away, dude!"

Butters held the marker in one hand and the pebble in the other, biting his lip. Making wishes was _serious _business, and he didn't want to waste it. Finally, he scrawled a word as carefully as he could onto the stone. Butters dropped it into the stream just as carefully, watching the ripples it made.

"All done!" Butters said, handing the marker back to Clyde. He was surprised when Clyde made a wish himself, much quicker than Butters had, tossing his pebble lightly down into the stream.

"What did you wish for?" Clyde asked, grinning. Butters laughed.

"Will it work if I tell ya?"

"'Course it will!" Clyde said, gesturing out over the water. "The wishes are, like, already in the _air_, dude!"

"Hmm," Butters answered noncommittally, smiling a bit, "well...I couldn't really think of nothin', so I just wished to become a doctor. I'm still gonna study_ real hard_, but I figured a little wishin' couldn't hurt!"

"It couldn't," Clyde nodded emphatically, "that's cool, that's cool."

"S-so, what did you wish for?" Butters asked, curious.

"Heh," Clyde ran his fingers back through his hair, suddenly bashful, "you wouldn't want to know. It's...kind of _embarrassing _and _sentimental _and...well, y'know."

"No, really, I wanna know!" Butters insisted. "U-um, unless you don't wanna tell me, 'cause that's fine too!"

"Well…" Clyde paused for a moment, still looking bashfully off to one side. "Would you believe me if I said I wished for you?"

"Yuh-you...wished for m-_me_?" Butters stammered, his face heating up even as his heart did a queer kind of lurch in his chest. Clyde nodded once, his hazel eyes finally coming to a rest on Butters's flushed face.

"Not that I don't plan to work_ real hard_, but I figured a little wishing couldn't hurt." Clyde murmured, playfully tossing Butters's words right back at him. Butters swallowed, his heart pounding now, and _damn it_ this wasn't supposed to happen, that's why he'd brought Kevin along, to act as a _buffer_ against this kind of thing...and..._and…_

Warning bells were going off in Butters's head, a dozen conflicting emotions all at once, but he couldn't help being flattered and maybe a little _frightened _because nobody had ever wished for him, he didn't think he was worth wasting a wish _for_, so how was he supposed to react, _how…_?

"Guys!" Kevin shouted suddenly across the field, sounding distressed.

Butters whipped his head toward the sound, alarmed. "Kevin?"

Clyde was already running off, his expression serious. "C'mon!"

Butters was out of breath by the time they raced back to the clubhouse, his dilemma with Clyde forgotten for now. He drew up in fear when he saw three older boys had Kevin surrounded, ugly smiles on their faces.

"_Seniors_," he hissed, narrowing his eyes, "oh hamburgers…"

The boys were seniors, _technically_, but all three had been held back. They were nearly twenty years old and _still _in high school, and had earned a reputation as the meanest, dirtiest sons of bitches there have ever been. The trio barely attended school as it was, but every freshman, junior and sophomore lived in terror of running into them. Butters had no idea why they didn't just drop out for good. Nobody seemed to know their names, and nobody _wanted _to know either.

"I asked this little _faggot _to draw me a picture," one of the boys said, shoving Kevin, "and he got all huffy!"

"L-leave me alone," Kevin said, trying very hard to sound brave, "I-I'm a _Jedi_, and you'll be s-sorry -"

"You're _what_?" Another boy brayed laughter like a donkey. "What a fucking joke!"

"Hey!" Clyde shouted. All three boys turned to face him, frowning. "Leave him the fuck _alone_," Clyde growled, "don't you assholes have anything better to do?"

"_Fuck_ you, you little bitch!" The last boy said, the biggest of the three, cross-eyed with a face full of angry pimples. "This isn't any of your fucking _business_! Go back to your faggy blonde _boyfriend _back there!"

Butters was shaking, but he was starting to get a little angry now too. "Yuh-you all n-n-need to jus' go back where you came f-from! _Now_!"

"Oh, my _God_!" The first boy said, laughing uproariously, but the cross-eyed boy with the pimples took a threatening step in Butters's direction, his expression dark. Kevin slunk away, taking advantage of the distraction, his face pale.

"Keep your fucking _mouth _shut, before I stick my dick down your throat." The pimply boy grinned. "You look like you'd _like _that, though."

Clyde's expression went cold and dark and _furious_, his hazel eyes taking on a gleam Butters had never seen before. He actually began moving in the pimply boy's direction, but Butters grabbed his arm and held him back. If Clyde started a fight, these boys would _destroy _him, and they knew it. Clyde didn't seem to care, though. The brown-haired boy was so enraged he was _trembling _with it.

"Clyde!" Butters whispered urgently. "Don't!"

"Better listen to your boyfriend." The boy with the donkey-laugh taunted.

"_Fuck_ you!" Butters shouted, shocking them all. "Yuh-you think you can do whatever you want jus' 'cause you're big an' scary? I fuckin' _hate _people like you!"

"Butters," Clyde ground out, "let _me _handle this."

"Clyde! You can't jus' go around actin' tough!" Butters sputtered, "These guys will put you in the _hospital_!"

"What an _excellent _suggestion." The leader of the boys said, cracking his knuckles. "Get 'em!"

Butters never saw how or when Kevin picked up a tree branch, but suddenly it was in his hands and he was swinging it as hard as he could at the boy with the donkey-laugh. Kevin loved to go on and on about being a Jedi, but Butters finally realized it was _true_.

That swing was _perfect_.

The branch cracked the boy across the back of the head and broke with a splintery sound. The boy screamed bloody murder, falling to his knees. Kevin was gone in a flash, blazing a trail past a shocked Clyde and Butters as he yelled over his shoulder.

"Don't just stand there! _Ruuunnn_!"


	9. 8 (part two!)

**8.**

**part two: the greatest hook-up of all time **

* * *

"Don't just stand there!" Kevin yelled over his shoulder, flying past his shocked friends. "_Ruuunnn_!"

_Right. Good idea._ Clyde snapped himself out of his temporary paralysis as the older boys whirled on them, their expressions contorted into masks of dark fury. He grabbed Butters by the hand and pulled the blonde-haired boy in a run, silently thanking his father for forcing him to take that year of track and field. Clyde could feel Butters's fingers tightening around his as they fled, and it would have been a _nice _feeling if he weren't so preoccupied. The seniors chased after them almost immediately, hurling vile obscenities at their backs._ So much for a quick escape._

Clyde glanced over his shoulder and winced at how close their pursuers were. He could practically _see _the hatred in their beady little eyes, coupled with a determination that made Clyde shiver. If those boys caught them they were dead, _period_. Clyde didn't much care what happened to him (taking the occasional beating was just a fact of life when you had a mouth like his) but he didn't want to think about what those bastards would do to _Butters_. He tugged on Butters's hand, urging the blonde-haired boy to go _faster_, but Butters was already running as fast as his short legs could carry him. Clyde grit his teeth, looking ahead. Kevin had almost made it to the entrance of the drainage tunnel, his sneakers kicking up dirt. If they could just reach it, they'd be fine. Only a little further...

"Clyde -" Butters gasped out, struggling to keep up. A painful stitch was beginning to form in his side, and he couldn't seem to catch a full breath. "I...I don't think -"

"You can do it, Butters!" Clyde snapped without turning around. "We're almost there, just keep going!"

Clyde sounded so self-assured Butters _believed _him, even though he could hear the older boys closing in, snarling ugly threats. The only person who'd ever inspired him like that was _Eric_ - and Cartman sure as hell wouldn't have held his hand the way Clyde was holding his hand right now, warm and strong and steady. Cartman probably would have abandoned him to be beaten within an inch of his life, especially if it meant saving his own neck. Clyde was holding him like he wouldn't let go, like he would _carry_ Butters if need be. The thought made Butters feel strangely warm all over, but he had no time to analyze the feeling, no time to focus on Clyde's strong back or the muscles in his arms. _Clyde's wearing a completely different shirt. That's not what he usually wears...gosh, I never even noticed until now. _

Butters gulped down some air and forced himself to keep moving.

Kevin reached the drainage tunnel first and paused, huffing and puffing. "Dark -" Kevin gasped, doubled over with his hands on his knees, "need - flashlight -"

"No time, dude!" Clyde reached out and grabbed Kevin, plunging them into the darkness beyond. Clyde felt the dark-haired boy stiffen, surprised.

"Jedi - knights - do _not _hold hands!" Kevin complained, futilely trying to shake Donovan off. Clyde ignored him, tightening his grip. Without flashlights, the tunnel was black as pitch, but Clyde didn't need to see to know _exactly _where he was going. _You assholes fucked with the wrong guy. _Clyde pulled Butters and Kevin close and hurried into the gloom, listening as the seniors cursed and stumbled blindly behind them.

"I-I can't s-see!" Butters whispered urgently. The tunnel echoed with the sound of footsteps, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell who was who. Butters glanced over his shoulder, breathing hard, but all he saw were shadows. "A-are they still - still f-followin' us?"

"Probably," Kevin replied, sounding faint and out of breath, "they - _augh _- seemed rather upset…"

"Don't worry dudes, we'll lose 'em!" Clyde insisted. Butters nodded shakily, but he was seriously beginning to think he couldn't run any more. His lungs were on fire, and the stitch in his side had become a throbbing center of agony. For a moment there was only blackness, distant curses and the sound of sneakers echoing in the concrete chamber, then the exit appeared before them, a bright circle of light. Clyde practically had to drag Butters and Kevin over the last few feet, before all three of them spilled out into the sunshine, gasping desperately for air. Without Clyde holding his hand, Butters felt...he felt _vulnerable_, somehow, but he couldn't very well ask the brown-haired boy to hold his hand again. That was just _ridiculous_. The only person he wanted to hold hands with was _Kenny_, after all! Clyde recovered enough to flash Butters a triumphant smile, but Butters couldn't quite return the gesture. He glanced down, suddenly feeling dizzy._ I'm just tired...yeah. _

"_Heh_ - I just realized -" Clyde mumbled, grinning in spite of his pained expression, "_Ngh _- that all of us are _sweaty _and _exhausted_. Hehehe...it's like the opening of a gay porn flick-"

"Clyde, get your mind out of the _gutter_!" Kevin snapped angrily, holding his side. "Let's _go _before they catch us!"

"U-um, Kevin's right," Butters replied, brushing away the honey-blonde hair clinging to his forehead with perspiration, "we s-should probably get the h-h-heck outta here fellas..."

"Oh_ fine_, just ruin my fantasy!" Clyde said, pouting playfully at Kevin. The dark-haired boy was _unamused_. Clyde stole one last glance back into the tunnel, his hazel eyes narrowing._ I don't see anyone...but I don't exactly want to stick around waiting for anyone to show up, either._

"This way." Clyde said briskly, leading the boys back through the abandoned construction site.

"Oh, thank _God_." Kevin muttered, rolling his brown eyes skyward.

Clyde, Butters and Kevin heard the seniors shouting as they searched for them, but by then they'd already made it back over the _No Trespassing_ fence. Kevin looked vaguely pissed, and Butters seemed thoughtful, but Clyde chattered happily all the way back to town.

* * *

"Thanks for the adventure, Clyde!" Butters said, fidgeting shyly in his doorway.

It wasn't dark, not _yet _at least, but the shadows had grown long. In another hour or two, the street lamps would be on, but for now, the world was filled with late afternoon sunshine. South Park would never be known as a cool place to hang out, but it was fucking _Saturday,_ and Clyde knew of at least a _dozen _places he wanted to take Butters. They could go to Stark's Pond, or hit the mall, maybe catch a movie then take a bus downtown to Clyde's favorite taco joint.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but Clyde didn't know how to phrase the question without sounding stupid, or worse, like he was being selfish. Maybe Butters was _tired_. They'd been hanging out all day already, and it just wasn't _fair _to ask Butters to hang out with him all night too...but Clyde just didn't want this to _end_. To be perfectly honest, he _wanted _to be selfish. Clyde wanted to make up some excuse to pull Butters along with him on another adventure, and another one after that, and the next day and the _next _day. He wanted to learn everything he could about Butters, and spend time memorizing all the ways he could make him smile and hear that adorable_ giggle-snort_ laugh of his. Clyde wanted to make up for all the time he'd spent _ignoring _the blonde-haired boy. _How could I ever have ignored you...I must really be a fucking idiot. _

"Yeah, heh, you're welcome." Clyde replied, grinning. "Uhh…" He nervously rubbed an elbow, glancing off to the side._ Do you wanna see a movie, maybe?_ It was a simple question, but Clyde just couldn't spit it out. Butters was already home, his parents' car was parked in the driveway and for some reason, Kevin Stoley was lingering around, watching the scene unfold with a wry smirk on his face. Not even McCormick could have established a mood under these conditions._ Fuck my life. _

"I had fun!" Butters continued cheerfully, rocking back and forth on his heels, "Wuh-well, right up until we all had to run for our lives...but the rest was pretty great!"

"Oh, yes. It was a laugh-a-minute." Kevin commented dryly somewhere behind them. "Maybe next time Donovan can take us all cage fighting."

"Good, good. I'm glad you had fun!" Clyde smiled, resisting the urge to punch Stoley in the face. Butters nodded, laughing a little, and _holy shit_ his eyes were so _beautiful_ Clyde couldn't help staring. It was now or never, but once again his tongue failed him, and Butters turned away, unlocking his front door.

"S-See you guys later!" Butters chirped, "Kev, we'll watch SG-1 real soon, 'kay?"

"Later…" Clyde said faintly, and then Butters stepped inside his house and closed the door. Clyde hung his head in disappointment. _Damn it…_

"Wow," Kevin said after a moment, chuckling, "aren't you dumb jocks supposed to be _good _at dating? That was so sad I almost want to cry for you. _Almost_."

"Shaddup!" Clyde shot back, trudging miserably back to the dirt bike he'd parked in the Stotch driveway earlier that day, "How the fuck was I supposed to make my move with you standing there, _staring _at us like a creep, huh?!"

"If you had any _actual_ charisma, you could have made it work." Kevin replied simply. "I was simply doing my duty as chaperone. I stuck around because I thought you were about to suck poor Butters's _lips _right off his face."

"Who asked you to be a chaperone, dude?" Clyde demanded, straddling his bike. "And _fuck you_, nerd! I wasn't going to kiss Butters!"

"Clyde. _Really_." Kevin rolled his dark eyes, wearily shaking his head. "You've wanted to kiss him _all day_."

Clyde blushed furiously. "Nuh-_uh_!"

"_Yes_, you have." Kevin insisted, his tone dry and utterly matter-of-fact. "Your attraction to Butters is so obvious even_ Officer Barbrady _couldn't miss it_._"

"Okay, fine!" Clyde snapped. "So _maybe _I have a little crush, so what?"

"A _little _crush?" Kevin was incredulous. "_Little_? No, there's nothing _"little"_ -" Kevin actually raised his hands to make sarcastic air quotes, "-about this. Except maybe your brain."

"Whatever, dude." Clyde grumbled, strapping on a helmet. He started his bike with a roar, but instead of driving off like Kevin was expecting, Clyde reached down and tossed the dark-haired boy a second helmet. Kevin caught it with one hand, eyebrows raised skeptically.

"Put it on and get your ass in the bitch seat, nerd." Clyde said, grinning. "We live on the same block, don't we?"

Kevin hesitated for a moment. Then (against his better judgement) he slipped the helmet over his head and climbed on behind Clyde. Donovan revved his bike and rode out into the street, with Kevin hanging on somewhat nervously.

"Since when did you have a dirt bike?" Kevin shouted over the rumbling engine, deeply regretting this decision.

"My Dad bought it for me. Birthday gift!" Clyde shouted back. "He knows I want a Harley, so he figured this would be good practice. Ain't it friggin _sweet_, dude?!"

"I've never seen you _ride _it." Kevin replied cooly.

"Yeah, well…" Clyde laughed, "my Dad doesn't actually _like _me riding it too much, 'cept on weekends. I _was _going to use it to take Butters around town...but then _you_ had to show up."

Kevin opened his mouth to retort, but Clyde suddenly gunned his bike and Kevin was forced to focus on clinging to the bigger boy as tightly as he could, hoping Clyde knew what the hell he was doing. Eventually, Donovan pulled up in front of Kevin's house, cutting the engine.

"Home sweet home, nerd!" Clyde announced cheerfully. Kevin pulled his helmet off with a grunt._ I can't believe I did that. Clyde's stupidity must be contagious. _

"Thank you." Kevin replied primly. He hesitated a moment before adding, "Actually, would you like to come in?"

Clyde's eyebrows shot up so fast Kevin was surprised they didn't fly off his face. "_Whoa_, an invite? From_ Kevin Stoley_? You tryin' to get in my pants, dude? 'Cause I'm kinda saving all this hot lovin' for Butters."

Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing hard. "You," he said slowly, "are an _idiot_. And just so we're clear, no, no, no and _no_. _Gross_. Not in a _million _years, not even in a galaxy far, far away."

"Heh! Your _mouth _says no, but your _eyes _say, _damn!_ That Clyde Donovan's one _sexy _son of a bitch." Clyde replied smugly, taking off his helmet.

"Just shut the hell up and follow me, you _moron_." Kevin shot back, annoyed.

"Wow, I actually made you swear! Kinda." Clyde chuckled, following Kevin up the walkway. He had no idea what had prompted Stoley to invite him into his home, but Clyde had nothing else to do (_Ugh, I could have been watching a movie with Butters right now…_) and besides, he was curious. Kevin's house was nice, Clyde decided, looking around. It had a real _classy _feel to it. Kevin set his tote bag down by the door and immediately headed for the kitchen. Clyde was cool with that. The kitchen happened to be his favorite place in _any _house.

Kevin opened the fridge and tossed Clyde a Pepsi, before pouring himself a glass of what looked like iced tea from a pitcher. "So," he said, once they'd both settled down at the kitchen table, "what exactly are your intentions toward Butters?"

Clyde nearly spat out a mouthful of soda. "_What_? Are you being _serious _right now, dude?"

"I am." Kevin replied, sipping his iced tea. "Butters is my _friend_. I'm simply trying to look out for him."

"Doesn't he have _parents_ to do that?" Clyde asked, confused. Kevin shot him an unreadable look.

"You'd be surprised." Kevin replied blandly. "Just answer my question."

"Fine, _alright_! You want the truth?"

Kevin rolled his eyes. "No, I want you to _lie _to me so I can call you out on your crap. _Yes_, I want the truth."

"It's a figure of speech, asshole!" Clyde cried, jabbing the table. He calmed down a little, before admitting softly, "I _like _him."

"Oh, wow. Like I didn't have _that _part figured out five hours ago."

"I like him a _lot._" Clyde added, irritated by Kevin's snarkiness. "Butters is the first person I've liked in a _really _long time, okay? The first person to give me fucking _butterflies_ in, like, _forever_. Not even my _first _love did that shit on a consistent basis. Butters is...he's…" Clyde leaned back, his eyes softening, "_special_. Look, I'm not good with words. I get all tongue-tied and I say stupid shit, but...being with him is like finding something you thought you lost ages ago. It's like randomly looking behind the couch one day and finding that special edition Playboy with the bust chart! You just feel _complete_, you know?"

Kevin shook his head, but his expression had finally lightened into something almost amused...for Kevin. "Well...at least you're genuine."

"Of course I am!" Clyde huffed, downing the last of his Pepsi, before letting out a massive burp. Kevin massaged his temples wearily. "Why the hell are you giving me the third degree about this, anyway?"

"Because," Kevin answered, "Butters is a lot of things, but I don't think anyone realizes just how lonely and confused he really is. His parents claim to love him, and I'm sure they do in their own strange way, but they've completely _destroyed _his self-esteem. What can you expect, when your own fucking parents tell you how much of a screw-up you are _every single day_? Did you know his parents ground him for weeks - _weeks _- over the dumbest things?"

Clyde blinked, unsure of what he found most surprising - the fact that Kevin was telling him all this or the fact that Kevin, cultured, stuffy, _intelligent _Kevin Stoley, had used an actual bad word. "Oh," he mumbled softly.

"Butters has always looked for acceptance," Kevin continued, as if Clyde hadn't spoken, "looked for someone who could...ugh, I don't know. All is know is, when I look at Butters I see someone who is _desperately _unhappy, and it makes me very sad. Butters is the sweetest guy in the world."

"Butters?" Clyde sputtered, stunned. "But...but he's always _smiling_, always…"

"Haven't you ever heard the saying that the saddest people smile the brightest?" Kevin interrupted softly. "You'll _never _see Butters cry. Think about _everything _he's been through, all the bullying, the shit with his parents. Butters slaps on a brave face and keeps going because he doesn't have a _choice_. Haven't you ever wondered why he's so weirdly eager to please?"

"He's...nice?" Clyde muttered, clenching his fists.

"Butters _is _nice," Kevin corrected impatiently, "but there's _nice_, and then there's caring so little about yourself that you let people _walk all over you_! Butters is so used to being mistreated he's actually convinced himself he _deserves _it! He's craving attention and the barest modicum of affection so _badly_ he tried to befriend a_ fat bastard _like Eric Cartman, for God's sake! Butters has been taken advantage of time and time again," Kevin said, fixing Clyde with a level stare, "but he doesn't seem to _realize _it. I'm his friend, however, and I will not stand idly by and watch Butters end up in a bad place because some dumb jock was looking to add another notch to his belt."

"What the fuck are you even _implying_?" Clyde demanded, anger sharpening his voice.

"You tell me." Kevin replied, calm as ever.

"I'm _not _going to hurt Butters! I would _never _do that!" Clyde stood up so suddenly he knocked over the chair he'd been sitting in. He was vaguely aware that he was shouting at Kevin, but he couldn't seem to control himself. "I appreciate the fact that you're Butters's homie or whatever, but _fuck you_! You really think this is all some...stupid _conquest_? I _care _about Butters!"

"_Do_ you? I thought this was just a _little _crush."

"Yes, I fucking _do_! And it's _not _just a crush, it's...it's…" Clyde flushed up to his hairline, chewing his lip, "..._real_. I don't know how to explain it better than that. You can call me a dumb jock or whatever, I don't really give a fuck. But I care about that kid, like, a _lot_. I like him a _lot_! More than I've ever liked anyone, okay? And maybe it's not _love _yet, maybe I'm too stupid to know what that feels like, but it _could _be. This isn't just my ego talking, or wishful thinking! When I'm with Butters I just get this crazy feeling that we could be _perfect _for each other. I'm, like,_ ninety percent_ psychic!" Clyde narrowed his eyes at Kevin. "You don't fuck with intuition, dude! Ugh, why am I even explaining this to you? I'm _outta _here!"

Kevin actually laughed, a low, soft sound that made Clyde pause, annoyed. "Calm down." Stoley said eventually, smiling his usual wry smile. "I believe you, okay?"

"_What_?" Clyde frowned. "If you believed me, why…?"

"You can't blame me for wanting to make sure," Kevin replied smoothly, "you _do _have a rather short attention span, after all. How was I supposed to know this wasn't just some misguided attempt to make Craig Tucker jealous? You can relax now, I have my answer."

"Okay, _one_? I don't _like _Craig anymore. He's with Tweak, and I'm happy for the guy. _Two_? Even if I _wanted _to make him jealous, Craig doesn't exactly _do _jealously like a normal person. _Three_, using someone to make someone else jealous is _totally lame. Four, _how the fuck did you know about my old feelings for Craig in the _first place_, and _five _- " Clyde inhaled deeply, shaking with outrage, " - did you just use a _Jedi mind trick _on me?"

Kevin laughed again. "_Never_ underestimate the Jedi. I spend a lot of time studying people. It's a hobby. Your former feelings for Craig aren't exactly a secret, though. This is _high school_. Stories get around, and you aren't particularly _subtle_."

Clyde snorted derisively, crossing his arms. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. But Kevin _did _have a point, so it was probably best to just let it go. Clyde sighed, rolling his eyes. "Psh. _Nerd_. Fine, so you believe me. Do I have your _blessing _now or whatever?"

Kevin shrugged, daintily sipping his tea. "No."

"The _hell_, dude!"

"Look," Kevin said, shaking his head, "don't get me wrong. You seem like a nice enough guy, and for what it's worth, I really do think your feelings for Butters are sincere. But if you want my _honest _opinion, I believe Butters needs someone a bit more...mature."

"Screw you, I _am _mature!" Clyde protested, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "I'm _very _fucking mature! I'm so mature I can pick up a six pack from 7-Eleven and not get carded!" A tear slipped down his cheek, and Clyde wiped it away furiously, blushing. "Ngh…"

"Please don't start crying." Kevin said, his normally dry, sarcastic tone becoming soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry Clyde, I didn't mean to upset you. _Really_. It's just my opinion. Ultimately, Butters is the only person you have to impress. It's _his _decision, not mine. If you're as serious about him as you say you are, I'm sure this will all work out." Kevin cocked his head, smiling a little. "Forgive my earlier rudeness. I was just trying to look out for a friend...surely you can understand that, right?"

Clyde sniffled, rubbing his eyes, before nodding quietly. Yeah, he could understand that. "...Thanks."

"No problem." Kevin nodded sagely, still smiling a little.

"So," Clyde hiccuped, "are we _cool _now?"

Kevin chuckled. "_Yes_, Clyde. We're cool."

"Broskis?"

"I am not, nor will I ever be, anyone's _broski_." Kevin replied, laughing a little. "You're not as bad as I thought, however, so...we can be _friends_. If you want."

Clyde sniffled again, then nodded, grinning. "Dude. We're _broskis_. No take-backs!"

"Oh, _whatever_." Kevin studied Clyde for a moment, his expression curious. "If I may ask, when did you start liking Butters so much?"

"Pretty recently." Clyde admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, "It's weird. I've known Butters almost all my life, but I don't really_ know him_, know him. Now that I have all these feelings for the guy it's like...being romantic feels _natural_, but we're still kinda...new to each other. I guess."

"Establishing the trust and intimacy of an actual relationship takes time." Kevin replied. "I know you two have known each other since kindergarten, but it would probably be in your best interest to take things as slowly as possible."

"Jesus, I know that!" Clyde shot back. Belatedly realizing he'd been standing up all this time, Clyde reached down to upright his chair, then plopped into it. "Ugh, can we talk about something _other _than my love life for a second here, dude? I mean, what about you?"

"What _about _me?" Kevin deadpanned.

"You know what I mean, dude. Any hot little _thang _you've had your eye on, eh?"

"No." Kevin replied, dry as ever. "I'm not interested in anyone right now. If you must know, I'm asexual homoromantic."

Clyde blinked. "You're what and a _what_-what?"

"Asexual." Kevin repeated slowly, as if he was explaining a difficult problem to a small child. "In a nutshell, it means someone who does not experience sexual attraction."

"Whoa, dude. Like...ever?"

"For the most part." Kevin shrugged. "I've never looked at someone and wanted to take them to bed. I just don't feel the urge."

"Wow," Clyde said, oddly impressed. "So you never, like...jerk off?"

Kevin shot the brown-haired boy a dark look. "What a _rude _question to ask."

"Sorry, dude! I'm just _curious_. I'm not, like, trying to offend you. _Sorry_."

Kevin exhaled through clenched teeth. "I experience _arousal_, yes. I simply do not feel the desire to find _sexual partners_. I'm perfectly content with the idea of never having sex with anyone. The act itself is not something I've ever craved. I call myself asexual homoromantic because, while I do not feel the need to act out my attraction sexually, I am romantically drawn to persons of the same sex or gender as me. Males." Kevin raised a brow. "Do you understand now?"

"Yeah," Clyde slowly, "I, uh, understand."

"Good."

"So...I'm bi."

Kevin slapped a hand to his forehead. "Yes, Clyde. I _know_."

"Just putting it out there, yo." Clyde said, grinning. "Asexual, huh? Man, I should totally introduce you to _Kenny_. Dude gets more ass than a toilet seat, but sex has always ruined all of his relationships. Either _they _want more and he doesn't, or _he _wants more and they don't, and everything just kind of falls apart. Kenny totally needs someone who he can, like, get to know on that _intimate _basis without all the sex getting in the way." Clyde thought for a moment, then his eyes suddenly went wide with excitement. "Dude, I just had the _greatest fucking idea_ -"

"No." Kevin interrupted harshly.

"You don't even know what I was -"

"I know _exactly _what you were going to say, and the answer is _No_." Kevin said, glaring at Clyde. "I don't need or want to be introduced to anyone, least of all _Kenneth McCormick_."

"Whoa, dude!" Clyde said, raising his hands defensively. "It's _Kenny_, not _Kenneth_. Whatever you do, don't call him _Kenneth_, he _hates_ that. Kenny's a real nice guy, but he will bust a gut in a _second _for calling him Kenneth." Clyde smiled. "Don't want you guys starting off on the wrong foot..."

"Clyde," Kevin hissed, his temper getting the best of him, "do _not_ try to set me up with Kenneth. I _mean _it."

"Jesus, dude! I'm not going to try to set you up. Save that shit for _Cartman_. I was just going to slide Kenny your number -"

"_Clyde_!"

"You two are going to be so fucking _cute _together, dude -"

"Damn it," Kevin swore, jumping up from the table, "I take back every nice thing I said! You're an _idiot_!"

"Hah! Joke's on you," Clyde replied smugly, "We're _broskis_. No take-backs!"

For a moment Kevin just looked stunned, maybe even a little amused, as if part of him found this funny while the other part wanted to drop-kick Clyde right in the face. Kevin finally just narrowed his eyes at the brown-haired boy, at his wits' end.

"Get _out _of my house, Clyde."

A few minutes later, Clyde was pulling his dirt bike into the garage. Kevin had gotten _awfully _pissy about Kenny, Clyde mused, as he headed into his house. _It's probably just 'cause he's shy! _

"Kevin and Kenny will be the greatest hook-up of _all time!_"

* * *

Later, _much _later, Butters was curled up in bed, watching a very violent movie by the glow of his laptop.

It was _definitely _the kind of movie his parents would never have approved of. Butters might have felt more guilty for sneaking it on Netflix, if he weren't so fascinated by all the blood and swearing. It was a _good _movie, Butters decided, rewatching a particularly brutal scene with big aquamarine eyes. But more importantly, it was _distracting. _Butters needed all the distraction he could get.

His parents had been watching the entire exchange with Clyde on the doorstep from an upstairs window (of _course_). As usual, Stephen and Linda interrogated him about his day the moment Butters stepped in the house. His parents had seemed oddly upset with him for not giving Clyde a_ kiss goodnight_, of all things. His father had even threatened to _ground _him if he didn't do it the next time they hung out, and wasn't _that _just great? Butters had no choice but to agree, hanging his head in defeat as he crept quietly back to his room. He knew from experience that arguing with his parents was useless, and occasionally even hazardous. They were right and he was wrong, _period_. Butters's only consolation was that - after tomorrow - he wouldn't be hanging out with Clyde any more. _Three days. I promised myself I'd only do this for three days! If I hang out with Clyde much longer, he'll really start to think I like him. _

So why did the thought of never seeing Clyde again make him feel so sad?

Butters sighed. He had a plan, and he needed to stick to it, gosh darn it! Butters _had _to get out of going to this dance with Clyde and confess his feelings for Kenny, once and for all._ I can do it!_

His phone buzzed on the night stand.

Butters reached for it automatically, wondering who would contact him so late at night. He fully expected to see Eric's name (Cartman kept some strange hours), but the message was from _Clyde_. Butters flushed, feeling vaguely nervous, before shaking his head and chiding himself for being silly. The text was simple.

_hey butters, it's me. clyde. uh, are you awake?_

Butters bit his lip. He could always pretend he was asleep. It _was _pretty late. Butters hesitated for a moment, then typed a quick reply.

_I'm awake! What's up?_

Butters's phone buzzed maybe ten seconds later. Butters giggled a little. _Gee. That was fast._

Clyde_: oh, cool! i was totally worried you were asleep. nothin much dude, just thinkin bout you ;-)_

Butters_: Gee Clyde, I'm not that interesting. You should probably go to sleep._

Clyde_: i was joking! sorta. look, i know i said we'd watch movies at my house tomorrow, but token's having a little get together at his place. wanna go?_

Butters_: Token's having a party? _

Clyde_: not even a party. just a small, private celebration. friends-only. _

Butters_: That sounds fun, but...are you sure it's okay if I come?_

Clyde_: dude! of course it's okay! i mean, unless you don't wanna go, 'cause we could always do the movie thing._

Once again Butters hesitated. Did he really want to go to a party? Gosh, he'd probably be uncomfortable all night. He could always just watch movies with Clyde...at his house...alone. _("Would you believe me if I said I wished for you?") _Butters shook his head. Party time.

Butters_: Well...if you think it's okay, sure! I'll go! _

Clyde_: awesome, dude! i'll invite kevin too ;-) _

Butters_: Kevin? I don't think Kevin likes parties none too much…_

Clyde_: heh, don't worry, i'm sure he'll love this! _

Butters_: If you say so, Clyde! Um, I better be heading to bed now. Night! _

Clyde_: butters? _

Butters_: Yeah? _

Clyde_: i just wanted you to know that i'm really enjoying spending all this time with you. it's been SO much fun. i was sorta kidding earlier, but i'm not kidding now. i hope you have sweet dreams, cutie-pie ;-) _

Butters's hands were shaking a little, but he couldn't _not _respond. It seemed to take him forever, but he finally managed to send a message.

_Thank you, Clyde. Thank you so much. _

Butters set his phone down and pulled the covers up over his head, trying very hard not to think about anything at all.


	10. 9 (part one!)

**9.**

**pulp fiction**

* * *

Clyde was upstairs looking over his father's colognes, frowning as he picked up bottles with labels like _Obsession _and _Nautica _and_ Polo Black._ Roger Donovan wasn't exactly the world's trendiest man, but his work in the oh-so-exciting world of shoe store ownership had allowed him to purchase several expensive brands. Clyde was a tad disappointed that his father only wore cologne to meetings and the like, instead of, say, hitting up ladies night at the local pub to find Clyde a _bootylicious _new stepmom. After Betsy Donovan's untimely death, Roger had channeled his grief into caring for his only son, but Clyde was older now, and totally mature (like, _totally_). Clyde didn't need his father doting on him like a child, and if anyone deserved a little companionship it was Roger. Seriously, his Dad was _awesome_! After he got Butters to fall madly in love with him, Clyde was going to try his best to convince his father to start dating again. Roger Donovan had been single and lonely for far too long. And as a matter of fact, so had he.

Clyde picked up a bottle of cologne and sniffed, gagging on the overpowering smell. Normally he wouldn't have bothered, but he was going to a _party _with _Butters_. Somehow this felt a lot more serious than their previous outings had, like an actual _date_, even though it was just a casual affair at Token's house. Clyde picked up another bottle and sniffed, considering. Out of all of them, he liked _Obsession _and_ Acqua Di Gio_ the best, but he couldn't seem to decide between the two. Should he just combine them, and create a scent so _primal _and _sexy _Butters wouldn't be able to keep his hands off him? The idea was tempting, but in the end Clyde settled on_ Acqua Di Gio, _gingerly spritzing a little down his shirt. Obsession had sounded just a little too..._intense_ for Clyde's liking.

Clyde replaced the cap on the bottle, and turned to check himself out in his father's bedroom mirror. _Looking mighty fine there, Clyde. Looking mighty damn fine. _He hadn't wanted to get _too _dressed up, but Clyde had upped his game a little, choosing a _slightly _fancier T-shirt and a _slightly _fancier pair of jeans from his wardrobe. He had shoved a backwards baseball cap over his messy brown hair and was wearing his favorite leather bracelet, the one with the skull motif. For Clyde, that was about as dressy as it got.

Clyde tromped downstairs just as his father was wrapping up a phone call, looking annoyed.

"Trouble in paradise?" Clyde asked, as his father loosened his tie with an aggravated sigh.

"I swear to _God_, if Mark screws up one more shipment he's out on his ass," Roger grumbled, flopping wearily down on the couch, "now I have to work overtime all this week to make sure everything's settled."

"Just make _him _do it," Clyde said, shaking his head, "_seriously_ Dad, how many times has this happened? If you'd just _can _the guy already you wouldn't have to deal with this crap."

Roger sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "I know."

"So?" Clyde prompted, crossing his arms, "Next time you see him, yank him into the office and pull a Donald Trump on his dumb ass!"

"Don't swear," Roger chided tiredly, "and as much as I'd like to, I can't do that. Mark's a good guy, he just needs a little direction…"

"Dad, you've been saying that for _two _years now," Clyde replied, rolling his eyes, "if the dude ain't got a clue by now, he's not getting one. You're _way _too nice."

"I know," Roger sighed again, glancing up at his son with a wry smile, "I promise, Clyde, I'll handle it."

"You better," Cyde answered, grinning, "'cause I'll _come up there_ if you don't. You don't want a repeat of what happened last time. I'll kick that guy's a - butt."

"_Nobody_ wants that," Roger agreed amiably, with a soft laugh, "so, are you going to this party or not?"

"I'm waiting for my friends," Clyde went to the fridge, opened the door and eyed a pack of frozen burritos longingly, "they should be here in, like, five minutes."

For the sake of convenience, Clyde had asked Butters and Kevin to meet up at his house. Of course, only Butters knew they were going to a party right after. Clyde knew that if he'd told Kevin the truth, the guy would have just called him a moron and refused to go, so he had made up some story about introducing Butters to Quentin Tarantino by marathoning some of his movies._ Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown..._Kevin had agreed, but only if they could watch _Kill Bill_, too.

"_Kill Bill_?" Clyde had said, on his phone with Kevin last night after texting Butters, "Lemme guess, your favorite character is my-name-is-Buck-and-I-like-to-fuck, right? Rightrightright?"

"_Kill Bill_ is a stylish, well-directed movie with many fascinating homages to Hong Kong martial arts, Japanese chanbara films, Italian spaghetti westerns, anime, and exploitation genres such as girls with guns, and rape and revenge," Kevin had replied hotly, "you _idiot_."

"Yeah, yeah. So, are you coming by or what?" Clyde had asked, crossing his fingers. Kevin sighed.

"Fine, I _suppose_. It should be fun explaining these things to Butters, and someone needs to keep an eye on you."

"Hey, I'm not a fucking pervert! You act like I'm inviting him over to my house so I can jump the guy! I can keep my hands to myself." Clyde had said, frowning. Kevin just made a noncommittal noise, and Clyde could practically _feel _Stoley rolling his eyes on the other end of the phone.

"Is that all, Donovan?" Kevin had asked, "It's almost one o'clock in the morning, I'd like to go to bed."

"Yeah. Actually, one more thing."

"What is it now?" Kevin had demanded, irritation in his voice.

"Kevin," Clyde had replied, lowering his voice to a husky whisper, "what are you wearing right now?"

_Click! _

It was just a joke, but Stoley had always taken things too seriously. In any case, they were both on their way. Clyde was gleefully looking forward to the look on Kevin's face when he told the guy about the party._ Kevin's gonna be so pissed off...but he'll totally forgive me when him and Kenny are going out. Yep! _

"Alright," Roger said, "have fun, but you know the rules. I want you home by ten o'clock."

Clyde shut the fridge, a whine entering his voice. "Aw, Dad, c'mon…"

"Don't try to talk your way out of this, Clyde." Roger replied, his voice firm. "_Ten o'clock_, mister. Not ten-o-five, not ten-fifteen, _ten o'clock_. Understand?"

Clyde pouted, gazing at his father with watery hazel puppy-dog eyes, but when Roger just crossed his arms Clyde sighed. Damn, he wasn't budging.

"Oookay…"

"Good." Roger relented, smiling a little, "How are you getting to Token's house? Why don't I give you guys a ride?"

"Really? _Sweet_!" It was enough to make Clyde forget his disappointment over curfew, but his expression changed from one of happiness to one of reluctance a moment later. "Uh…"

Roger arched a brow. "What?"

"I just remembered, you're gonna be meeting Butters for the first time..." Clyde said, anxiously biting his lip. Shit, how could he have forgotten a detail like _that_? It wasn't even like they were an _item_, but having Butters meet his father was _major_! Roger knew all about his crush, after all. What if he tried to _interrogate _Butters? Oh God...what if Roger _embarrassed _him somehow?

"So?" Roger sounded confused.

"_So_, it's kinda weird!" Clyde cried, running his hands nervously down his face. "Dad, _please _don't embarrass me."

"_Me_?" Roger replied incredulously, slightly offended. "How am _I _going to embarrass _you_? You're perfectly capable of doing that yourself."

"Dad, I'm serious! Like, _seriously _serious. When Butters gets here, be nice."

"Why _wouldn't _I be nice?!" Roger demanded, throwing up his hands. "Clyde, honestly, don't be so _dramatic_."

"I'm not being dramatic!" Clyde denied, even though he was. When the doorbell rang, Clyde jumped and tried to run for it. Roger calmly beat him to the punch, opening the door to reveal Kevin Stoley.

"Hello Mr. Donovan," Kevin said politely, inclining his head at Roger, "is Clyde home?"

"Butters?!" Clyde said, practically elbowing his father out of the way. When he saw Kevin he calmed down and sighed, "Oh, it's just _you_. Come on in, dude."

"How _very _polite of you." Kevin replied dryly, stepping through the threshold.

"Dad, this is Kevin. Kevin, this is my old man." Clyde introduced, grinning.

"It's nice to meet you, Kevin." Roger said, smiling amicably. "Are you excited about tonight?"

"Excited?" Kevin cocked his head, puzzled, but he replied courteously, "Tarantino's films are often exciting. I'm looking forward to revisiting them again."

It was Roger's turn to look puzzled. "Oh? Will Token be showing movies at his house?"

Kevin's dark eyebrows came together, befuddlement written all over his face. "_Token's_ house…?"

"Ah-ha-haaa…!" Clyde laughed nervously, stepping between the two, wishing his father would _ixnay _with Token's _house'nay, "_Kevin! Dude, want something to drink?! You look a little _parched_, man!"

Kevin shot Clyde a dark look, his expression tight with suspicion, but before he could respond the doorbell rang once again. This time Clyde answered it, thankful for the distraction.

"Yo, Butters!" Clyde greeted cheerfully, opening the door, "What's...up...uh…" Clyde drifted into silence, his mouth slightly ajar. "Uh…" Suddenly Clyde couldn't get his brain to work, so he just stared, while the kid standing in the doorway fidgeted miserably.

"H-Hi, Clyde..." Butters stammered, glancing down.

It _was _Butters, Clyde knew that. But the boy standing before him looked so radically _different _from the Butters Clyde was used to seeing that he might as well have been another person. Gone were the beat-up Converse sneakers, blue jeans and dopey sweaters that had always personified Butters Stotch. This version looked _older_. _Sophisticated_. Butters was wearing a long-sleeve polo in a dark green color that made his aquamarine eyes look almost emerald. The shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, exposing his neck and the _barest _hint of collarbone every time Butters took a breath, like a teaser for a movie. Butters had paired the shirt with a dark-colored pair of pants, _much _nicer than his jeans, and he was rocking some _stylish_ leather Oxfords (Clyde knew his shoes). His blonde hair, which was usually a fluffy mess, had been neatly slicked back, exposing more of his undercut. Butters wore leather bracelets on each wrist, like Clyde's but thinner, and there was a silver cross on a leather thong around his neck, half-hidden by the shirt.

Suddenly Clyde was imagining nudging Butters down, peeling that shirt off, and sucking hickeys into his neck while the other boy whimpered softly. He'd move down to nibble on his collarbone, then trail a line of wet kisses over Butters's chest and stomach until he reached the hem of those nice pants. Clyde wondered, in his lustful daze, what kind of underwear Butters preferred. Tighty-whities? Boxers? Boxer-briefs? Didn't matter, he'd soon have them _off_. Pants like that totally needed a belt, or else they wouldn't sit right. Butters must of have been wearing one, only Clyde couldn't see it. Clyde would unbuckle that belt _slowly_, driving Butters insane with anticipation for what was to come, and when he'd loosened it_ just enough, _he'd undo the zipper with his _teeth_..._Mmmm…_

Roger stepped on his foot.

"_Ow_!" Clyde cried, jumping back. "Jesus, Dad! What was that for?!"

The look Roger shot him was unimpressed. Clyde realized belatedly that he must have been giving Butters the_ bedroom eyes_ all this time, and flushed with embarrassment. _Damn it, Clyde, keep it together! _

"I can tell from my son's reaction that you must be Butters." Roger said, smoothly taking over. Butters blushed and nodded.

"Y-yeah, that's me." Butters replied, extending his hand with a nervous smile, "It's n-nice to meet you, Sir."

"Sir? That's much too formal! Mr. Donovan is just fine," Roger laughed, shaking the Butters's hand all while giving him a careful once-over. He was a busy and stressed-out single parent, so he had never really paid much attention to his son's friends. Roger couldn't help feeling curious about the kid, though, considering he was all Clyde could talk about these days. Butters was a good-looking boy, a little shy, but mannerly. Roger was pleasantly surprised. _Well...at least Clyde has good taste, even if he occasionally lacks good sense... _

"I hope Clyde hasn't been giving you too much trouble." Roger continued in a warm tone. Butters smiled wider and shook his head.

"Aww, gee, Clyde's been great Mr. Donovan!" Butters said cheerfully. "No trouble at all, really! It's been a heck of a lotta fun!"

Clyde felt his heart skip a beat.

"Wow, Butters," Kevin said, impressed, "you look great, my friend."

"Yeah," Clyde agreed faintly, "_fantastic_, dude."

Butters blushed again, toying with the hem of his shirt. "U-um, thanks...my parents made me wear this stuff…" He cocked his head at Kevin, who was wearing nothing more than flip-flops, cargo shorts and a black T-shirt with a Batman logo. "U-um, you're wearing _that_? It's a _party_, Kevin…you coulda dressed up a little more..."

Kevin froze, whirling on Clyde. Clyde tried to look innocent, but the jig was up. It was interesting watching Kevin's face as he realized he'd been duped. Stoley went from surprised to horrified to _furious _all in the span of several seconds. It was times like these when Clyde was glad Kevin wasn't an _actual _Jedi, else he would have been _force choking_ him right now.

"I wasn't _aware _it was to be a formal event." Kevin ground out through tightly clenched teeth, wondering how he'd fallen for Clyde's trickery. He had to admit, for a moron, it had been rather nicely executed. Kevin couldn't exactly smack Clyde silly with his father standing less than two feet away, and he couldn't back out without disappointing Butters. He was _trapped_. Kevin's hands balled into fists at his sides. _Well-played, Donovan, well-played. Don't think this little stunt won't go unanswered, though. _

"It's fiiinneee," Clyde said, grinning like a fool, "Kev's totally, like, slumming it up! Right, dude?" But when Kevin's left eye began twitching, he added quickly, "Welp, you dudes ready?! My Dad totally agreed to give us a ride to Token's place! It's _party time_!" Clyde whooped, pumping a fist in the air, "P-A-R-T-_why_? Because I _gotta_!"

Butters began giggling, but Roger rolled his eyes hard. "Clyde. You are _so _embarrassing."

* * *

Butters had never been to Token's house. The magnificence of it intimidated him, but he actually felt calmer than he thought he would, even a little _excited_. Butters didn't get the chance to go to many parties, but he genuinely enjoyed being around people and parties were _fun_, even if he ended up playing wallflower most of the time. Kevin seemed _grumpy _for some reason, but Butters was practically skipping down the extravagant walkway to the Black's mini-mansion. If only his parents hadn't made him wear such awful clothes…Butters tugged self-consciously at the collar of his shirt, trying to close it up. Linda and Stephen Stotch had reacted joyously to the news that he was going to a party, and Butters had been forced to spend most of the day shopping for this stupid outfit, which wasn't even as worse as it _could _have been. Even so, Butters had felt like an idiot putting it on, and the way Clyde had stared at him in the doorway, with a sizzling kind of intensity, had only made him feel even more self-conscious. Butters sighed. He'd just have to deal with it tonight.

"Clyde, why's Token throwin' a party?" Butters asked, as Clyde rang the doorbell. He could hear a chime echoing sonorously deep instead the house.

"I asked Token the same question, but he said it was a surprise." Clyde answered, with a shrug and a grin. Butters caught the sidelong glance Clyde gave him, his hazel eyes half-lidded. Boy, he'd been doing that_ a lot _tonight. Butters blushed, looking down. He must _really _look ridiculous.

A solemn-faced butler promptly answered the door, and they were led down a sumptuously decorated hall and through some double-doors to a den in the back. Butters had heard of recreation rooms, but this was like a recreation _auditorium, _complete with a dance floor. Butters was looking around with wide eyes, overawed, when Token, Nicole, Bebe and Kenny swept up with welcoming smiles.

_Kenny_.

Butters felt his heart stop, then speed up to a sickening pace. He froze, his face slack with a combination of shock and horror, as the love of his life walked up in slow motion like he was coming straight out of a Zack Snyder movie, or maybe that was just Butters's imagination. Kenny was dressed as casually as Kevin was, in low-slung jeans and a simple white tee. When Kenny's dark-blue eyes landed warmly on him, Butters took a half-step back, as if Kenny's gaze had an actual _weight _to it, and if he looked too long he would be be crushed, or worse, _drown _in those sapphire depths. Oh God...what was Kenny even _doing _here?

_Kenny is Token's friend too...of course he'd come to his party,_ Butters thought, chiding himself for his stupidity. For some unfathomable reason he simply hadn't expected Kenny to be here, and his appearance had completely _undone _all of Butters's excitement. All he wanted to do right now was run home as fast as he could, but that was impossible. Butters thought he glimpsed a hint of amusement in Kenny's eyes, and he realized (with a rapidly paling face) that he showed up to this damned party with _Clyde _in these _awful _clothes. Kenny must think he looked like a _fool_.

Butters tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone as dry as a desert. He was _nowhere near _emotionally prepared for this.

"Dudes!" Clyde greeted, flashing his friends a dazzling grin, "I'm here, so this party can _officially _get started!"

"Thanks for coming, Clyde." Nicole said, the dimples in her cheeks flashing with the brilliance of her smile. "Oh, you brought Kevin and Butters, too? Hi guys!"

"Hello, Nicole. Good evening, Token." Kevin replied, polite as ever. "Forgive my lack my dress, I wasn't _adequately _prepared to go to a party."

Kevin shot Clyde a death glare at that, but Clyde just smiled beguilingly, winking.

"Don't worry about it Kevin," Token said, nodding at the dark-haired boy, "this was just a last-minute thing, anyway. Glad you could come."

"Last-minute?" Kevin looked around the room, his eyebrows raised. Tables had been set up with food and refreshments, there was music playing in the background, and decorations had been hung from the ceiling. If _this _was what Token called last-minute, Kevin wondered what the guy would do if he had time to actually _plan _something. "I...see."

"Nice to see you again, Clyde." Bebe said, her full lips lifting into a smile.

"You too, Bey." Clyde replied, shooting the girl a sly grin.

"Hey," was all Kenny said, a simple greeting that encompassed them all. He seemed particularly interested in Butters, however. Kenny's eyes hadn't once left him, but it was impossible to tell exactly what McCormick was thinking. Butters thought he was going to start _hyperventilating _if Kenny stared at him any longer. He had long since looked down at the ground between his feet, but Butters could still _feel _Kenny's eyes on him, like a ghost-touch. Butters's head was spinning and his knees felt weak. He sincerely hoped no one was waiting on him to say something, because he couldn't have spoken to save his life right now.

"You look really nice, Butters." Kenny said eventually, his voice low and warm. Butters jerked a little at the sound of it.

"I-I...I…" Butters whisper-stammered, trembling. He didn't notice Kevin Stoley watching him with raised brows. "I…"

To Butters's infinite relief, Clyde took control of the conversation, sparing him the pain of having to respond to Kenny's compliment. Butters had never been so glad Clyde was such an extrovert.

"So, what's this all about Token?" Clyde asked, "you said it was a surprise, dude. And not to diss your party or anything, but, uh...is this it? Just us? Don't get me wrong, I _totally _love you guys, but that's just lame."

"I _said _it was a last-minute thing!" Token laughed, "A few other people might be showing up, but I really wanted to keep this small."

"Are, uh...Craig and Tweek coming?" Clyde bit his lip, finding the idea conflicting. On the one hand, they were his friends and Clyde genuinely wanted to hang out with them again, and on the other being with Craig and Tweek felt undeniably _awkward _these days._ Not to mention that almost-fight with Craig at school...yeesh. _

"Craig and Tweek aren't coming." Nicole replied.

_Oh, thank God._ "Damn," Clyde said, shaking his head sadly, "I'm _so _disappointed."

"Yeah, right." Kenny muttered, rolling his eyes at Clyde.

"I guess Tweek and Craig must be too busy putting a dent in Craig's mattress." Bebe said, her eyes shining mischievously. "Lucky them."

"Yeah, lucky them," Clyde replied airily, "running the risk of STDs is _so _exciting."

"You sound jealous." Kevin said, his voice dry and terse. Clyde snorted derisively.

"Tch, jealous! No _way_. Not even a little bit, nuh-uh. I'd much rather be here with you fine fellows," Clyde said, eagerly rubbing his hands together, "and if it turns into a _crazy _orgy, why...that'll show 'em!"

Kevin made a noise of disgust, but Kenny laughed richly, causing Butters to peek demurely up at him.

"Never stop reaching for the stars, Clyde." Kenny said, grinning.

"So c'mon, Token! What's the sitch?" Clyde demanded impatiently.

Token took a deep breath and put his arm around Nicole. "Nicole got accepted into that summer dance program in New York."

Everyone began clapping and expressing their congratulations, but Clyde wailed in distress.

"You're gonna be gone _all summer_?" Clyde said, grasping Nicole by the shoulders, "B-but, _Nicole_! You're my favorite girl who just happens to be someone else's girl! You're my _main babe_! We were totally gonna go _shopping _together and do each other _nails _and talk about _boys_..._ngh_..."

Nicole's lovely dark eyes began watering, while Token looked on, shaking his head in amusement. "Oh, Clyde...I know," she said, pulling the brown-haired boy into a fierce hug, "but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me! The program is run by a member of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater! There will be other other summers…"

Clyde sniffled. "You...you promise?"

"Of course, Clyde!" Nicole said, using her thumb to wipe away his tears. "I promise, when I get back from the program, we'll have Token rent out an El Torito and celebrate!"

Clyde's lips trembled, before he wrapped Nicole up in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. "I'm so _proud _of you, babe! You'll knock 'em dead, I just know it!"

_Clyde's so nice,_ Butters thought, watching as the others laughed and cracked jokes while Clyde continued to blubber emotionally._ It doesn't matter who you are, Clyde will talk to you and try to make friends if he can. He's such a goofball, but his warmth makes everyone feel comfortable._

Suddenly Butters felt someone rest an arm on his shoulder. When he looked up and saw _Kenny, _his body went stiff with fright. Kenny was looking down at him with a wry grin, one brow raised suggestively. "I don't think Clyde has anything to be jealous about," McCormick said a low voice, "the way you were looking at him just now, Butters."

What? _WHAT_?

"I wasn't lookin' at him any special way!" Butters squeaked, just loud enough to make everyone glance at him questioningly. Kenny raised his brows even higher as Butters began backing away, the realization of what he'd just done _(I actually spoke to him!_) hitting him like a kick to the gut.

"I...I...I gotta use the restroom." Butters mumbled, his cheeks aflame.

"Oh," Token said, smiling, "sure Butters, I'll show you -"

"I can find it!" Butters squeaked again, before he turned and ran out the room.

"Huh." Clyde said, watching Butters with a confused tilt of his head.

_Oh Butters,_ Kevin thought, wearily massaging his temples.

"Well, er…" Token shrugged, then grinned. "Let's get this party started, shall we?"

* * *

A few more people showed up shortly thereafter. Most of the cheerleading squad made an appearance - Lola, Heidi, Jenny, Red - as well as a couple guys Clyde knew from the football team. Nicole's pretty cousin Simone arrived, and even Gary Harrison (who was on the student council with Token) came bursting in with a gift for Nicole.

All in all it was a cool party, small and intimate. Clyde personally preferred wild and crazy gatherings where everyone got drunk and loose, but it was _nice _to spend a relaxing evening with friends. Besides, the chill atmosphere made it much easier to plot his next move. He had managed to get Kevin to the party, but how the hell was he going to get him talking to Kenny? Clyde surveyed the room, thoughtfully chewing his lip. Kenny was on one side, happily chatting up Red, while Kevin was on the other, having an enthusiastic conversation with Gary. _Hmm..._Kevin had been shooting him so many death glares Clyde was surprised his heart hadn't given out through the power of psychic suggestion, and as much as Kenny _loved _sex he actually _hated _being set up almost as much as Kevin claimed to. This was going to be _tricky_.

"Clyde," a familiar voice called, breaking his concentration. Clyde looked down to see Bebe standing at his elbow, her lips curled into a warm ruby-red smile.

"Bey," Clyde replied, affectionately reverting back to his old nickname for her, "damn girl, you're lookin' _good_. How have you been?"

Clyde used to have a _huge _thing for Bebe. Who wouldn't? Bebe Stevens was _gorgeous_, with legs for days, a head full of wavy blonde hair, a tight ass and a rack that had been known to make men drool. Bebe knew she was a goddess and carried herself as such, but she wasn't stuck up at all. The girl was smart as a whip, and had a sensible, practical view on life that had clashed with Clyde's happy-go-lucky ways.

Even though their personalities weren't compatible at all, it hadn't stopped either of them from skipping school and having heavy make-out sessions on occasion. Those moments with Bebe - lying on her bed, moaning into her mouth as she kissed him, or cracking some silly joke just to hear her laugh - were some of Clyde's _favorites_. They had never done more than neck and kiss, grinding against each other in some dim and secluded place. Clyde used to regret that they'd never been serious, thinking that maybe he should have _tried _harder, but these days he just felt _relieved_. A relationship with Bebe never would have worked out. He was too much of a slacker to ever satisfy a girl like her. Clyde would have just ended up with a bitter, broken heart, and Bebe had known that, which was probably why she'd called it off with him in the first place. Clyde would always be grateful they were just friends.

"I've been good," Bebe said, squeezing his arm, "same shit, different day. You're looking good yourself, Cly. Lost weight?"

"Can't be a fat fuck forever!" Clyde laughed. "Seriously, though, my Dad was on my case pretty bad a while ago about my health n' stuff. I figured I'd start hitting the gym." Clyde self-consciously rubbed his tummy, which still poked out under his shirt. "Still have to lose, like, forty more pounds."

"I like it," Bebe replied, poking him gently in the stomach, "reminds me of the old, cuddly Cly. I can't have you changing on me too much."

Clyde grinned. Back when he and Bebe were fooling around, it had never ceased to amaze him that a _smokin'-hot_ chick like Bebe had found anything even _remotely _attractive about him. Clyde had always feigned confidence, but secretly, he'd known Bebe was _completely _unattainable. Back then, he'd been one taco short of a double-chin, a loud, obnoxious _doofus_. Clyde was pretty much the Jonah Hill of his friends. But then Bebe had come along, graceful as a cat, with her mischievous smiles and pale green eyes. Being with her...it had really boosted his self-esteem, at a time when he hadn't had much to spare.

"Heeeyyy, I'll still be the same old Clyde!" Clyde insisted. "Just in better shape! I know you always admired Stan's physique."

Bebe chuckled. "Yeah, but Stan never had a personality as nice as yours. Anyway, you surprised me tonight. I had no idea you and Butters were such good _friends_."

The way she said the word _friends _made it sound like anything but, and coupled with that mischief-making smile, Clyde had to laugh.

"It's not really like that…"

"But you'd _like _it to be," Bebe insisted, her pale green eyes twinkling, "don't try to deny it, Cly. I know you well enough to know that look on your face. You want to get all up in Butters's personal space _bad_."

"Weeelll," Clyde drawled, shrugging, "it would be _nice_."

"Nice?" Bebe threw back her head and laughed. "I forgot how much you liked to _understate _things, Cly."

"Okay, _okay_. So maybe I wanna bang him so hard they'll hear it in the next town," Clyde admitted, grinning, "but it's _not _just that! Butters is _seriously _adorable. He's warm and smart and funny and a _million _other truly awesome things I can't remember right now. C'mon Bey, can you blame me?"

"Not a bit," Bebe replied, nodding, "I always thought Butters was cute myself, but...those _clothes _he's wearing…"

"God, I _know_, right?!" Clyde cried, sighing. "Seriously fucking _hot_."

"Well, there he is," Bebe said, inclining her head toward a corner of the room, where Butters was standing, trying to blend in with the walls, "are you gonna go get 'im, tiger? Or do I have to steal him away?"

"Don't you _dare_." Clyde said, extending his arm for Bebe to take. The Kevin/Kenny situation would just have to wait. "C'mon, beautiful, let's go."

Butters _had _managed to find the bathroom on his own, but Token's house was so damn _big _it took him almost fifteen minutes. For a while he just splashed water on his face, trying to calm himself down long enough to take a normal breath. His heart was still pounding, but Butters felt strangely elated. He had actually managed to get a _sentence _out around Kenny! Sure, he had done it sort of _unconsciously_, but...it counted! And if he could get _one _sentence out, then maybe he could conquer his nerves and have an actual _conversation _with the boy. Butters glared at himself in the bathroom mirror, pouting resolutely. Before this night was over, he was going to talk to Kenny, _without _looking at the floor or stuttering so badly nobody could understand him.

_What about Clyde?_ A small, traitorous voice asked somewhere deep inside. _Don't deny - _

Butters shook his head, refusing to acknowledge that thought. Clyde had _nothing _to do with this.

Feeling a little stronger, Butters slowly made his way back to the party, glad to see that it had filled out a bit. He smiled, happy that Kevin was talking with Gary, and went to find a nice quiet corner where he could watch everybody until he worked up enough courage to talk to Kenny. _Gee, this is nice…_

"Butters!"

Butters jumped. Clyde and Bebe appeared unexpectedly, smiling at him._ Oh hamburgers…_

"H-hey guys!" Butters said, trying not to fidget, "um, this is a real nice party, Clyde. T-thanks for takin' me, an' all!"

"Sure," Clyde said, grinning, "but I hope you weren't expecting to hold up this wall all night, Butters."

"E-eh?"

"Seriously, dude, you're with _me _tonight. No hanging back, scoping the scene," Clyde continued with a wink, "it's time to dance and mingle!"

"D-dance?!" Butters muttered, knocking his knuckles together. "Wuh, I dunno about that…an' I'm not too good at minglin'...I mean, I dunno anybody here really..."

"Dance with me." Bebe said suddenly, extending her hand. Butters gulped, his eyes wide. He couldn't dance with _Bebe_! She was one of the most popular and beautiful girls in school! He _couldn't_!

"C'mon dude, it would be totally rude to refuse a lady!" Clyde said, waggling his brows. "Do it!"

"Plllease?" Bebe added, smiling encouragingly. Butters had no choice but to take her hand, praying his palms weren't too sweaty.

"O-okay...u-umm…"

"_Alright_!" Clyde said, giving Butters an enthusiastic shove toward the dance floor. "HEY! HEY _TOKEN_! TELL THE FUCKING DJ TO PLAY SOMETHING GOOD!"

Butters's face went _scarlet_. Any hope of _not _drawing attention to himself was out the door, and he heard Kenny wolf-whistle as he led Bebe to the dance floor, laughing.

"Don't do it, Butters!" Kenny shouted. "That girl will eat you _alive_!"

"Fuck you, Kenny!" Bebe yelled back good-naturedly, as Token gestured for the DJ to play something a little slower. She turned back to Butters with a friendly expression, trying to catch the boy's eyes. "Don't worry about stepping on my feet, Butters. Just have fun, okay?"

"Gee, Bebe, I'm not gonna step on your feet." Butters replied shyly, forcing himself to look her in the face. Bebe was taller than him by a few inches, and if he kept his head low it would look like he was trying to peer down her cleavage. "Yuh-you're wearin' such nice shoes, I don't wanna mess 'em up!"

Bebe's lips quirked in a half-smile, unsure what to make of it as Butters threaded her hand with his and placed one warm palm above her hip. She had been so sure she would have to coax him through this, but Butters needed absolutely no direction at all. He took the lead in the dance effortlessly, spinning her around as the music picked up pace. Bebe hadn't expected Butters to be so _good _at this, or half so calm. The Butters Stotch she remembered had always been a dopey guy, too nice for his own good, cute (especially as he'd gotten older) but so cheerful it used to get on her _nerves _sometimes. Bebe was starting to become out-of-breath, her own movements catching a little awkwardly at points, but Butters was all _smoothness_. When she misstepped he was right there, guiding her through the last bars of the song, and when it reached the end he actually _dipped _her, so low she thought she was going to fall.

"Butters!" Bebe gasped, scrabbling at his shoulders.

"I gotcha, Bebe!" Butters chirped, leaning her back upright, and then the song was over. Bebe stared at Butters blankly, her pale green eyes wide. Butters smiled naively. "I told'ya I wouldn't step on your feet."

"Uh…" Bebe opened and closed her mouth a few times, before mentally shaking herself. "Ha. That you didn't. Thanks."

"No problem-o!" Butters replied cheerfully, his aquamarine eyes shining with the intrinsic warmth that made Butters _Butters_, and damn, Bebe thinks it must be indeed be a strange, _strange _world when _Butters Stotch_ is starting to look really fucking sexy. The thought makes her want to laugh, sort of, so amused is she by this unexpected turn of events.

Hmm, maybe if she was _real _nice, she could convince Clyde to videotape it when they hooked up so she could have something to keep her company later…

"Whoa, go Butters! Lord of the _dance_." Kenny said, rolling up on them with Red on his arm. Butters blushed hard and stammered out a thanks, and then Token and Nicole were walking up, along with Clyde. Clyde looked like he wanted to kiss Butters right then and there, and was holding myself back with all the willpower he could muster (Bebe knew he didn't have a _lot _of it, so poor him), but Token was obviously impressed and Nicole's eyes were huge.

"Wow, Butters!" Nicole gushed, "You're _so _good! I had no idea you could dance like that! You _have_ to dance with me, please?!"

"Nicole the dance nerd!" Clyde teased, winking at the dark-eyed girl, but he was all eyes for Butters. Was it physically possible to die from being too turned on? Must not be, else he'd be _dead_.

"Wuh, sure! I'll dance with you Nicole!" Butters agreed happily, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm not a professional like you, though!"

After that, Butters found mingling much easier.

* * *

At some point, someone pulled out a case of beer and a karaoke machine.

Butters was all danced out, so he settled down on the floor next to Kevin, cradling a beer between his hands. He'd thought Kevin was going to go ballistic on him and launch into a self-righteous lecture on underage drinking, but Stoley just raised a brow (making Butters feel uncomfortable nonetheless, like he was _disappointing _him somehow) and kept quiet. Butters had no doubt he'd be getting an _earful _from his friend later, but right now, he just wanted to fit in. That wasn't so awful, was it? Butters knew all about the perils of trying to fit in, and how it was better _just to be yourself_. He'd seen all the damn movies. But it was so _nice_, just this once, to feel like he belonged, like he was _wanted_, like he wasn't annoying his peers with his too-bright smiles and his cheerful, overly naive outlook on life, like he wasn't just _there_, lingering in the background, the forever-afterthought.

It was real nice.

Butters took another sip from his beer, grimacing at the taste. It was bloody _disgusting_, but he'd seen Clyde and Kenny downing them with no problem, so maybe it was one of those things you just had to get used to? He'd already had _three _of these, though...Butters took another sip and nearly gagged.

A whole _lot _of getting used to, apparently.

He was just fine, though. _Fantastic_, actually. Maybe these drinks would give him just enough courage to finally, _finally_ talk to Kenny. And in the meantime, Butters would get to watch him _sing_. Kenny had protested loudly when Token handed him the mike, but Clyde, Bebe and Gary had booed and jeered until Kenny relented, laughing, and stepped up to the machine. Nicole had dimmed the lights, turning the world into a soft wonderland where nothing existed but him and Kenny...or so Butters thought. He smiled softly, drawing his knees up to his chest. The alcohol was making Butters feel swimmy, as if his mind had detached from his body and was now floating up in the atmosphere somewhere.

Butters watched as Kenny browsed through the list of songs, frowning ("Stop stalling, dude!" Clyde shouted from somewhere off to the side) before he let out a frustrated huff and just selected something at random.

"Fuck it," Kenny murmured as the music began, running his fingers back through his blonde locks (Butters _really _loved it that he had grown it out so long). Kenny turned to face the crowd and winked seductively, earning a few cheers (mostly from Red). "This goes out to all the _lovely _ladies. And a fat bitch named Clyde."

"Fuck you, dude!"

Kenny cleared his throat as the song hummed to life, warming up to it. When he began to sing, Butters felt his heart seize and his breath catch in his throat, because he was sure he'd never heard anything so beautiful. Kenny was a _wonderful _singer (he'd even gone to Romania once), his voice low and strong and sweet, _powerful. _Butters wanted to close his eyes and let it wash over him, to pretend Kenny was singing _just _for him, so he could take it back with him and hold it close to his heart whenever things got dark in his world. His eyes fluttered shut, then opened again when he realized he wanted to watch him, too. Butters stared, enraptured, as Kenny held the mike and belted out the first few bars, filling the room with the sound of his voice.

"_Baby, love never felt so good_

_And I doubt if it ever could_

_Not like you hold me, hold me…"_

("Sing it, Kenny!" Bebe giggled.)

"_Oh baby_

_Love never felt so fine_

_And I doubt if it's ever mine_

_Not like you hold me, hold me…"_

("Booo!" Clyde cried.)

"_And the night's gonna be just fine_

_Gotta fly, gotta see, I can't wait,_

_I can't take it cause_

_Baby,_

_Every time I love you_

_In and out my life_

_In and out, baby_

_Tell me_

_If you really love me_

_It's in and out my life_

_In and out baby_

_So baby..._

_Love never felt so good." _

Butters swallowed, feeling raw, as someone had just taken a piece out of him. Then again, Butters had always felt as if Kenny owned a little bit of him, even if he'd never been able to take more than a few fleeting moments with McCormick away for himself. Trying to grasp at Kenny was like trying to hold a handful of water. Butters should know by now that it would slip through his fingers every time, but he still kept _trying_. When Kenny finished his song, everyone clapped, even Clyde, who immediately jumped up, eager for his turn.

"Alright, alright, alright. If that shit made you bitches moist, then this will have you _dripping_," Clyde said, taking the mike from Kenny, "maestro, if you please?"

"Have at it, dude. I'll be right back, you guys. Stepping out for a smoke." Kenny said, shaking his head affectionately at Clyde.

_A smoke. Kenny's going outside, now's your chance Butters! _Butters picked up his beer and swilled it down, ignoring the taste, and the fact that it was still half-full.

"Butters!" Kevin protested beside him, surprised, but Gary laughed warmly at the sight, his brown eyes surveying Butters curiously.

"Wow, the last time I saw someone take it to the head like _that _was when Stan freaked out because his Dad walked in on us." Gary commented, "Go Butters, _chug _it!"

Butters set the beer down with a soft burp, and _gosh_, his head was definitely spinning something _fierce _right now. He didn't feel scared though, and that was all that mattered. Butters stood up quickly, stumbling a little (he _might _regret chugging down four beers in less than an hour, yep, yessiree, but _boy _was he feeling _mighty fine_ right now) and began following Kenny, ignoring Kevin's attempts to pull him back.

"_Butters_!" Kevin hissed again, as Clyde began his rendition of _My Humps_, to thunderous applause. Butters ignored him.

The evening air was nice and cool on Butters's skin. He took a deep breath, following the scent of cigarette smoke to where Kenny stood by the pool, looking thoughtfully out over the water. Butters paused, trying to gather his thoughts, but the alcohol had shot his cognitive functions all to hell. Butters stepped forward, swaying a little, his skin flushed and his aquamarine eyes a little droopy.

" 'ey, Kenny." Butters slurred softly, his accent far more pronounced. Kenny glanced up, a surprised smile breaking across his handsome face, his cigarette dangling expertly from his lips.

"Butters," Kenny greeted, chuckling, "what's up?"

"Aw, nothin'," Butters replied, pleased with himself for having made it this far, " 'm fine. Ah jus' wanted to talk to ya, an' stuff. Ah really liked your song…"

Kenny chuckled again, drifting a little closer, his sapphire eyes roving over Butters's face, "Thanks...it's not really _my _song, though."

"Well, gee, it should be! Ya should write some songs, an' sing 'em too, all purdy like that," Butters smiled unsteadily, wondering if Kenny had actually gotten even _closer_, or if it was just his imagination, "Ah would buy all your albums...ah wouldn't illegally download your songs or nothin'!"

That comment got a laugh out of Kenny, even though Butters had been dead serious. He didn't mind, though. Kenny's laugh was so _rich_, like a bite of Devil's Food Cake. McCormick reached out and touched him, actually _touched _him, and Butters couldn't help the soft, barely-audible gasp that tumbled from his lips at the contact. Kenny ran his thumb along Butters's jaw almost tenderly, shaking his head with a wry smile.

"You're three sheets to the _wind _right now." Kenny murmured. But Butters didn't know what Kenny meant by that, so he just smiled again, rocking in place.

"Umm...how...how've ya been Kenny?" Butters asked, his tongue feeling thick and unresponsive in his mouth. Kenny hummed thoughtfully, dropping his hand from Butters's face.

"Good. I've been _really _good, actually." Kenny replied, looking at Butters as if he didn't actually expect him to remember _any _of this come morning, "I'm actually better than I've _ever _been."

"Mmm." Butters nodded understandingly, even though he was so drunk (he didn't realize this) Kenny kept going in and out of focus. "How so?"

"Just..._everything_, Butters. You know how it was with my parents, my shitty home life. When the cops finally busted Stuart for selling drugs and Carol started selling her ass for meth, well…" Kenny lowered his eyes, a dark look crossing his face. "Things were really bad for us for a while, there. I wasn't sure if I'd ever have the kind of stability I have now. But Kevin's finally sober, Karen's smiling every day, I'm holding down my own apartment, a _job_. Even school's not so bad anymore." Kenny shrugged. "It's more than any McCormick had ever had in this fucking town, I can tell you that much."

Butters nibbled on his lip, wanting to say something profound and comforting, maybe even give Kenny a _hug_, but all that emerged was a low, "Oh, m'kay…" spoken in the syrupy slur that had become his accent. Kenny didn't seem upset, though. In fact, he seemed _thoroughly _entertained by the whole situation, his dark blue eyes dancing with merriment.

"And what about _you_, Butters?" Kenny inquired, cocking his head, teasingly. "How are things with Clyde?"

"Clyde?" Butters mumbled, feeling confused, "Ah…"

"Clyde likes you_ a lot_." Kenny continued obliviously, missing the way Butters's eyebrows slowly creased. "He can be an idiotic pain in the _ass_, yeah, but honestly? There's no one I'd rather have in my corner when shit gets rough. Clyde let me crash at his place more times than I can count, and even though the dude cries at the drop of a hat, he'll kick someone's fucking ass if you push him." Kenny laughed. "Then _cry _about it, probably."

Butters glanced over his shoulder, back in the direction of the party. He could hear Clyde singing, sounding just like a _dying cat_. _"I drive these brothers crazy, I do it on the daily! They treat me really nicely, they buy me all these ices…" _

"Clyde's had a bit of a rough deal when it comes to love. Shit. I've told him time and time again about falling head over heels for people like a dumb ass, but…" Kenny snorted. "Dude won't listen to me. And that's just how he is, anyway. Clyde's always played the class clown, but he's got the biggest heart of anyone I know." Kenny grinned. "I really don't believe in love and roses and all that fucking _nonsense_, but...I think you two would be _good _together. You have my best wishes, Butters. Just don't tell Clyde I said anything nice about him, I don't want his head getting any bigger than it already is."

Butters was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the way the lights from the party were reflecting off the pool. His expression was hidden under a fall of his blonde hair. "Okay," Butters whispered finally, unable to meet Kenny's eyes. His shoulders hunched up a little as he hugged himself, as if he were _freezing_. "I...okay."

"Butters?" Kenny said, concerned, but Kevin Stoley suddenly came huffing and puffing around a corner, followed closely by Clyde, still humming _My Humps_.

"Butters!" Kevin said, rounding on his friend, who just lowered his head even more. Kevin narrowed his brownish-black eyes at Kenny, bristling. Kenny returned the hostile stare with a blank, mild-mannered look.

"Kevin." Kenny greeted calmly. "Something wrong?"

"Hmph." Kevin snipped, earning an arched brow from McCormick. "Butters, I -"

"Dudes!" Clyde said languidly, strolling up with a wide smile, "I have _totally _been looking been looking all over for you!"

"_Have_ you? 'Cause we were right outside." Kenny replied acerbically.

"Like I said, _all over._" Clyde repeated, grinning wider. "Kenny, there's someone I want you to meet. _This _feisty little dude right here is my _friend_, Kevin Stoley."

Kevin looked up sharply, his expression cut in stark lines of fury, so outraged at Clyde's _audacity_ that he momentarily forgot all about Butters, who was still staring forlornly out over the pool. Kenny glanced down at Kevin, befuddled, before looking back up at Clyde with his features twisted in an expression of extreme confusion.

"I...I already _know_ Kevin. I just said his name, like, five seconds ago…"

"Clyde," Butters said suddenly, his voice soft, "can we...can we go somewhere a little quieter? 'm feelin' real...dizzy." Butters finally looked up, shooting Kevin a reassuring smile. It made Kevin frown anxiously. "Why don't ya stay here an' keep Kenny company, Kevin?"

"But -"

"What an _excellent_ idea!" Clyde purred, wrapping an arm around Butters. "You two get to know each other, 'kay?"

Kevin watched as Clyde led Butters off, _fuming. Damn you, Clyde Donovan!_

Realizing he wasn't exactly alone, Kevin turned to face McCormick, who was watching him with wide blue eyes, somewhat cautiously. Kevin couldn't help his sigh of pure aggravation.

"Well, _crap_."


	11. 9 (part two!)

**9.**

**pulp fiction: part two **

* * *

Clyde was _more _than happy to take Butters somewhere quieter.

As fun as Token's party had been, it hadn't exactly provided many opportunities for one-on-one time. Kenny McCormick had that shit down to a fine science, but Clyde had always found it hard to flirt when he was surrounded by bodies and the music was cranked loud enough to burst an eardrum. Clyde smiled, but when he turned to look at Butters, all the sweet-nothings he'd been dying to whisper in his ear all night went right out of his head.

Butters looked _exhausted_. His eyes were glazed, his skin was pale, and he was swaying a little despite the comforting arm Clyde had wrapped around his shoulders. Clyde felt a sharp pang of guilt, quickly followed by anger at himself. Craig had told him time and time again how difficult it could be for shy people like Butters to feel comfortable in social situations, and yet he'd dragged Butters here, pressured him into dancing with Bebe, even handed him those beers. _Beers_! Butters clearly just wanted a little peace and quiet, and all Clyde could think about was getting into those nice pants of his._ I'm such a fucking jackass. Bad Clyde, bad! No Butters for you. _

Feeling deeply ashamed, Clyde led Butters through the Black's immaculate gardens as quickly as he could, mindful of how unsteady Butters was on his feet. He went around the pool house and paused at a covered spanish-style veranda fragrant with the smell of spring roses growing in a pot nearby. There was a wicker chair and a patio table here, and Clyde gently guided Butters over to it, trying to get him to sit down. He could still hear music drifting from the house, as well as the sound of laughter.

"Here you go, Butters." Clyde murmured softly, pulling out the chair. "If you're still feeling dizzy, I can go get you some water, maybe a wet towel to put on your head..."

"Clyde."

Something in the way Butters said his name made Clyde pause and stare, his eyes wide. The blonde-haired boy was looking down at the wicker chair with an unmistakable expression of dissatisfaction, and for a moment Clyde was convinced he had upset Butters somehow.

"I-I'm sorry." Clyde apologized, stammering, because he didn't know what else to do. "Should I...do you want me to leave you alone? Or is this…?"_ I have no idea what I did wrong. It's like Algebra all over again. _

"No." Butters replied, and suddenly he took Clyde's hand, threading their fingers together. Clyde felt as if he'd been _electrocuted_. Butters's hand was small and warm, a little calloused. Every nerve-ending in his palm was singing, and_ holy shit_, Clyde hadn't thought he could be so _sensitive _anywhere but his dick. Not even _Bebe's _touch had ever made him react like this. Clyde gaped, wall-eyed with shock, as Butters tilted his face up to him, smiling a little. His eyes were still glazed, and he looked pale as ever...but that _smile_. That smile did funny things to Clyde's stomach.

"I thought I told ya I wanna go somewhere's quiet." Butters said. Clyde couldn't help but notice how slippery his accent had become, like molasses poured over pancakes.

"Uhhh…" Clyde said, trying to process what was happening and failing _miserably_, "...this isn't...it isn't good enough?"

Butters actually began to look a little _annoyed_. Clyde couldn't blame him. He had never been all that quick on the uptake, but Clyde liked to think he made up for it in charm and an encyclopedic knowledge of South American cuisine. All his charm had deserted him, however. He must have seemed about as intelligent as a kernel of corn in a piece of shit right about now. Clyde couldn't help himself. It almost sounded like..._like_...and that just _couldn't _be true! Butters wasn't _propositioning _him, Clyde was letting his attraction for the blonde-haired boy muddle his brain -

"I wanna go somewhere where we can be _alone_," Butters said, finally deciding to just spell it out, "do you wanna fuck me, or not?"

Oh.

_Ohhh_.

Clyde blinks, and even _dumb _as he is, there's _no _mistaking the meaning of that. This is all happening so _fast_. _Too _fast. Clyde can't help feeling confused and maybe even a little alarmed, because as much as he's flirted with Butters, the boy had never given him any reason to think he liked him as much more than a friend. Until _now_, that is. The look in Butters's aquamarine eyes is strange. Clyde doesn't think he likes it, but when he opens his mouth to (protest? agree? question? sing halle-_fucking_-lujah?) opens his mouth, Butters closes the gap between them with a kiss.

If a little hand-holding had been enough to shake him, that kiss _floors _him. Butters presses their lips together without the slightest bit of hesitation, but it's awkward at first, as if the blonde-haired boy isn't entirely sure what he's doing. Whether he's sure or not, Butters is clearly determined to kiss Clyde as best he can, and he proves it by shifting his head so that their lips line up better.

Clyde feels a rush of heat flare over his face. That heat travels down his neck and into his chest, then pools in his belly before gathering tightly in his _dick_. God, a simple kiss shouldn't be enough to make him so _hard_, and if it were anyone else, maybe he _wouldn't _be.

But this was _Butters_.

Butters takes Clyde's parted lips for an invitation. He tentatively eases his tongue into Clyde's mouth, still a bit _awkward_, but Clyde moans as if he's being _fucked_. Clyde forgets everything in that moment - his confusion, Butters's odd behavior - and kisses Butters back so _hungrily _he hears the boy make a small noise of surprise. He honestly doesn't know how he held out for so long. Butters's lips are _ridiculously _soft. He tastes _amazing_, like alcohol and honey and some addicting, _indescribable _flavor that was purely Butters. Clyde moans again and cups Butters's face, but before he can do much more than that, Butters breaks away.

Clyde is _trembling_. Even with the baggy cut of his pants, he's pitching a tent so obvious Cirque du Soleil could have done a show around his crotch. Clyde licks away the saliva Butters left on his bottom lip with an unabashed groan, and he's seconds away from kissing him again when Butters firmly places a hand on his chest, holding Clyde in place.

"Um...s-so, do you?" Butters asks again, with that strange look in his eyes.

"Yes." Clyde murmured, his voice husky with need. "Holy shit, _yes_."

"Then take me somewhere." Butters mumbles.

They end up in the back of Kenny's car.

Realistically, Clyde knows that probably isn't the _best _place to hook up with Butters. Finding a nice, empty guest room in Token's house would have required backtracking through the party, however, and considering his current state of arousal that would have raised far too many questions Clyde would have been unwilling to answer. Or _unable _to answer. Honestly, there wasn't a whole lot of blood left in his brain. Clyde figured Kenny wouldn't mind. His classic Mustang was a certified chick-magnet. McCormick had fucked so many people in that back seat it might as well have been a guest room, and even though he kept the inside as immaculate as the outside Clyde didn't want to _think _about what would show up in that car under a blacklight. A girl could probably get pregnant just from _sitting _back there wearing short-shorts.

Kenny had parked his car way in the back, next to a decorative rock garden behind a sheltering screen of trees. McCormick was usually paranoid as hell about locking up "his baby", but Clyde knew he felt comfortable enough at Token's house to leave the latch popped. Butters hesitated for a split-second before climbing obediently inside, and Clyde followed him eagerly, closing the car door behind them.

"_Shweet_." Clyde murmured, breathing in the piney scent of the Mustang. Kenny always kept one of those little tree car fresheners on the turning signal, probably to hide the fact that the 'Stang would have smelled like spooge otherwise.

"It's like a five-star hotel!" Clyde jokes, but Butters doesn't doesn't laugh, doesn't even so much as crack a smile. Even with his excitement, Clyde can't help but notice how _uncomfortable _Butters looks, peering around the dim interior with wary rabbit eyes. Clyde rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly, wondering if he had killed the mood before it even began.

"Sorry," he mumbled softly, studying Butters in the pine-scented gloom, "I guess...this isn't really romantic."

" 's fine." Butters replied, shrugging. "Ain't it some kinda American tradition to do it in the back seat of a car?"

"Hmm." Clyde said, and for a while that was that. A silence descended over the vehicle, broken only by the sound of crickets chirping madly in the garden. Butters could _feel _Clyde staring at him questioningly, almost as if he was waiting for him to _do _something, _say _something. He had started this, so it seemed only reasonable that Butters show some enthusiasm, assure Clyde that it was okay to continue, but right now it was all Butters could do to keep from bursting into tears._ I'm so stupid. I'm so...fucking...stupid._

How could he ever have thought someone like Kenny would ever want a meek, useless, _broken _thing like him? Kenny had always been so _nice_ to him. There were times when he was the only person who _bothered_, and Butters had clung to Kenny's smiles and Kenny's kind words like a piece of driftwood in the sea of his loneliness and depression. When his parents were at their worst, thinking about Kenny had kept him _sane_. Butters had been happy to call McCormick a friend for a long time, but at some point he'd taken that kindness to heart and begun nursing a foolish hope that Kenny might actually come to see him as _more _than that.

How many times had Butters touched himself imagining it was Kenny, muffling his cries into his pillow at night, half-helpless and half-terrified one of his parents would walk in? Butters hung his head, feeling disgusted and ashamed, _weary_.

He never had a chance. Being with Kenny had _never _been a possibility. He was an _idiot_. No one would ever _love _him, ever want to be with him, ever accept him as anything other than a waste of space too stupid to know he was a waste of space. Butters was crazy

(if he _wasn't _crazy, he wouldn't have.._wouldn't_ _have_...have…)

and Kenny deserved _better_. The best Butters could hope for was right here, right now. Butters lifted his head to give Clyde a long, measuring look, staring deep into those nice hazel eyes of his, gleaming with concern. There was no such thing as karma. People didn't like him didn't deserve nice things. He just had to accept whatever he was offered. His parents had pushed him into seeing Clyde, and Kenny had wished them well together, so this _must _be it, right? Butters scooted a little closer to the boy, trying to be as inviting as he could. If this was the best he could get, he had no business turning it down. Kenny was out of his league, but maybe...maybe…

_Maybe I can close my eyes and pretend that it's Kenny instead of Clyde. Even if it makes me nauseous afterward. I always did have a great imagination. _

"Umm..." Clyde murmured, smiling nervously, as Butters closed the space between them. The atmosphere had begun to feel so stiflingly _awkward _that Clyde's hard-on had just about died. Butters had looked so lost in thought a moment ago, all his emotions turned _inward_. Clyde hadn't wanted to interrupt his process, hadn't wanted to come across as pushy or demanding. Butters had all the power here. Clyde was just a willing participant, but he was only willing to participate if Butters wanted to, too. As far as Clyde was concerned, this had all been too good to be true already. The second he heard a "Stop," he would stop, gladly...but Butters didn't seem to want to stop just yet. The blonde-haired boy snuggled up to him and began pressing kisses into Clyde's jaw, and that was...it was _fantastic_, but something just didn't _feel _right.

"Uh, huh...uh…" Clyde said, his heart pounding, as Butters began trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck. The boy had _no idea _what kind of effect he had on him, because Clyde's forgotten erection was beginning to twitch back to life. "Heh...I, um. Really wanted to hear you sing, Butters. You should have taken a turn with the karaoke machine!"

It was totally lame, but it was the best Clyde could come up with it. Lame or not, it got Butters to stop just long enough to look at him, his expression unreadable.

"I can't really sing."

"Well fuck, dude, me neither!" Clyde replied, smiling broadly. "I still wanted to hear you sing, though. It would have been _totally _friggin' awesome."

"Maybe later."

"Oh...uh...okay." Clyde said, and Butters was right back at it, attacking his neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Clyde's eyes actually began to flutter shut because _fuck _that felt good, but his psychic intuition (like,_ ninety percent psychic_, okay?) was setting off warning bells in his head. Clyde reached up and gently pulled Butters off, holding him at arm's length. Butters arched a brow.

"Butters," Clyde began, "Um -"_ You're acting really strange, and I'm not sure if it's the alcohol or the situation, but I don't think we should do this. _"Are you okay?"

" 'm fine."

_Oookay…_ "Really?"

"Really."

_Jesus_. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Wuh, _wha_?"

"It's twenty-one questions, Butters, _c'mon_. Keep up!"

"You aren't holdin' up any fingers!" Butters snapped, his aquamarine eyes flashing.

"Just testing, just testing! Red or blue?"

"Blue…"

"Pancakes or waffles?"

"...pancakes."

"Really?" Clyde grinned, pretending not to notice how Butters's eyes had narrowed in aggravation. "I always figured you'd like waffles -"

"Clyde! Are we doin' this o-or not?!"

"We are! _Totally_. Totally and seriously. I'll have you know, in some parts of the world twenty-one questions is a valid form of foreplay!"

"Well, I don't wanna play!" Butters hissed, and Clyde wonders how far gone he is when even Butters's _anger _turns him on. He doesn't think he's ever seen Butters angry, and as surprisingly _scary _as it is, it's a refreshing change from his perpetual cheerfulness. Clyde thinks he may be starting to get what Kevin was talking about when he said Butters puts on a brave face, but before he can think of a response Butters darts forward and kisses him on the mouth, _hard. _Clyde honestly doesn't know why he's so _surprised _every time Butters does that. Butters had always been so naive it was difficult imagining him having a sex drive, but that was just ridiculous. Of _course _Butters had a sex drive, he was a normal, _healthy _teenaged boy.

"Jus'...fuck me already. 'm fine, Clyde. Really! If 'm actin' weird, it's jus' 'cause I'm nervous, is all. I've never done nothin' like this before." Butters says when they break apart for air, his voice cracking a little around the edges.

Clyde's head is spinning and his lips feel swollen and part of him, the incredibly horny, _incredibly-fucking-attracted-to-Butters-Stotch_ part, wanted to believe him so they could get _on _with this already. His erection is back full-force, screaming for attention. Butters was crawling forward, trying to nestle himself into Clyde's lap, and it was so _alluring _he gave in. Clyde leaned back to let Butters straddle him, brushing against his groin. The friction tore a groan from his lips, but when Butters tried to pick up where they'd left off Clyde stopped him. Butters actually hissed in frustration, his aquamarine eyes shiny. There's something in those blue-green depths that gives Clyde pause, and he recognizes it a second later, because it's an emotion he's rather familiar with.

_Hurt_.

"Are ya serious right now?" Butters asks, pouting. Clyde just smiles. Butters is trying _very _hard to act tough, but that pout is so reminiscent of the sweet Butters Stotch Clyde is used to he just wants to _boop _him on the nose. He doesn't, if only because Butters might bite his finger off.

"It pains me to say, but I am. Damn, and I _really _hate being serious, too!" Clyde replied, grinning when Butters just scowled at him. "You know...you keep asking me to _fuck _you, but I was kinda hoping we'd get to...y'know. _Make love_. 'Cause, uh, it might come down to the same thing in the end, but it totally _sounds _nicer. And I only want to do the _nicest _things for you. You feel me?"

Butters blinked at him, frowning a little. Clyde can't tell if he's surprised, confused, or some heady combination of the two, but it's obvious from the way Butters fidgets suddenly in his lap (sending _sparks _of pleasure shooting through him every time he inadvertently brushes against Clyde's groin) that he wasn't expecting to hear something like that.

"Does it...matter?" Butters finally mumbled, his frown deepening.

"_Tch_! Fuck _yeah, _it matters, dude!" Clyde replied passionately, _hurt _by the idea that Butters had thought it wouldn't, "I'm not a _wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am_ kind of guy, okay?! Save that shit for Kenny!" (Butters _flinches _at that. Clyde doesn't notice.) "Look, I fucking _care _about you!"

It was true. Clyde _cared _about Butters more than he wanted to bone him - and _boy _did he ever want to bone him right now. Butters was _beautiful_. It seemed like such a girly word, but there was no other way to describe him. Butters was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind, but _damn _was he beautiful, in his nice new party clothes or his modest sweaters, wearing a smile or a frown, sitting quietly or talking a mile a minute, inside and out, and all Clyde wanted to do was _convince _him he wasn't just talking out his ass.

"Butters. Dude. Cutie-pie, darling, _babe_," Clyde began warmly, wrapping his arms around the boy, "we don't have to do this."

Butters opened his mouth, to protest perhaps, but Clyde shushed him gently.

"We don't. Have to. _Do _this." Clyde repeated again, laying emphasis on each word. "Look. I _like _you. I like you so..._so much_." Butters reddened, but Clyde smiled and began massaging little circles into the blonde-haired boy's back. Every muscle was _tight_ it seemed, knotted with nerves, and Clyde realized he was the only one who'd been even remotely excited. "I know we've known each other for a long time without really _knowing _each other, and this might be a totally lame thing to say, but if I'd known how fucking _great _you are -" (Butters bit his lip, reddening even more.) "- how _smart _and _sweet _and _funny _and _adorable_ and _sincere_ you are way back when? I never would have wasted so much time with Craig. I would have been trying to be with _you_, instead."

"Don't…" Butters muttered, his voice quaking. "Clyde…"

"Don't what?" Clyde murmured, grinning. "Don't say things that are absolutely, one-hundred percent _true_? Sorry, darlin', but these lips don't lie! Butters, you're a fucking _babe_. I feel like I'm in a shitty teenage romance movie. You _honestly _give me butterflies. If you start sparkling in the sunlight, though, there's going to be a problem. Twilight was _bullshit_."

Butters actually smiled at that, a _real _smile. Clyde was glad to see it, even if it seemed a little sad. He ran his thumb carefully along the boy's jaw, tenderly flicking back and forth, and after a long moment, Butters placed his hands on either side of Clyde's head, his fingers sinking into the fabric of the car seat. He leaned forward and hovered agonizingly over Clyde's lips for a second or two before he kissed him, and _fuck_, it was even _better _than before. Clyde responded eagerly, relishing the press of Butters's lips, how shy he was with his tongue, how he moved against Clyde with slow caution at first, then with a little more surety.

"Butters..." Clyde gasped, because there was only so much he could _take_, and he _cared _about Butters and _desired _him in equal measure, "_Cutie-pie_...I don't want to do anything you don't _want_."

That seemed to give Butters some pause. The blonde-haired boy leaned back, anxiously running his tongue over his lips, before he shrugged and smiled again.

"Don't worry, Clyde." Butters replied, running a finger down the brown-haired boy's chest, "I...you're _real _sweet. An' I _do _want this, so jus'...kiss me, okay?"

Clyde surged against him.

Butters found himself being pulled into a crushing embrace, and then Clyde was kissing him, hot and wet and with so much _passion _it made Butters tremble a little. It was the first time since he'd left Kenny by the pool that Clyde had initiated a kiss, and while Butters didn't have much experience to draw from, he thought the brown-haired boy was pretty _good _at it. Somehow, Butters had imagined Clyde would be as playful with his kisses as he was with his words, but apparently this was one area where Clyde did _not _fuck around. Butters actually began to feel _dizzy, _his heart picking up speed, and when Clyde suddenly shifted them so that Butters was lying on his back with Clyde positioned above him, at first his muddled brain couldn't figure out why he was now looking _up _into his hazel eyes. Butters had always thought kissing someone senseless was just a figure of speech.

Clyde's expression was soft, and the sheer _affection _in his eyes made Butters's stomach muscles clench. With his squarish face, solid build and messy brown hair, Clyde couldn't have looked any different from Kenny if he tried. Butters closed his eyes as Clyde began a gentle assault on his neck, suckling slowly. He wanted to pretend, and he couldn't do that with his eyes open. It had taken forever just to get Clyde to_ shut up_, and Butters was going to pretend until it was all over.

That was _all _he wanted.

_Kenny,_ Butters thought, as Clyde caught his earlobe between his teeth. Butters could feel Clyde's hard-on poking him insistently in the thigh, and he parted his legs so Clyde could settle between them, sighing contentedly. Butters concentrated on conjuring up McCormick's image in his mind's eye as Clyde began running his hands up and down his torso, but he couldn't seem to get a clear enough picture. Clyde was _grinding _his hips against him, rocking Butters back and forth in a smooth, steady rhythm. Butters could feel himself starting to react, and that wouldn't have been a _problem _if he'd actually been able to think of Kenny, but he _couldn't_. Maybe the beer was to blame, or maybe it was because Clyde was simply too _real _to ever take a backseat to Butters's imagination. Whatever the reason, Butters was aroused and feeling _completely _overwhelmed, and it is _Clyde _thrusting his tongue into his mouth, _Clyde_ biting his bottom lip, _Clyde _toying with the hem of his shirt before lifting it up with an impatient growl, _Clyde_ grinding their erections together (oh gosh, when had Butters gone all hard down there? He didn't even know, Kenny, Kenny, _Kenny_,_ damn it_, why couldn't he think of him?!) while he moaned.

"Dry-humping is, like, one of the _best _things ever," Clyde sighed happily, skimming the tips of his fingers over Butters's bare stomach in a way he found _maddening_, "damn, you're _so _perfect, cutie-pie. Better than...fuck, I don't even know. Better than _anything_. Better than _tacos_."

Butters kept his eyes screwed shut and nodded, wishing Clyde would just shut up, just please _shut the hell up_, because while his voice had deepened as he'd gotten older it was still sort of nasally_,_ and was nothing like Kenny's. Clyde lifted his shirt a little higher and began circling his nipples, using light, _teasing _strokes, and Butters couldn't help whimpering at the _newness _of it all. Then Clyde leaned down and applied his _tongue_. Butters's eyes flew open and a gasp tore from his throat, followed by a full-body shudder that made Clyde chuckle.

"Niiice," Clyde said, in much the same tone he'd used when Butters had dressed up as a _girl _and told the whole class he liked getting his _snootch pounded on Friday nights._

Butters honestly could have _smacked _him.

His eyes were open, and his imagination had failed him. Butters felt _hot, _and he couldn't seem to stop _trembling_. He must have looked a _mess _right now, with his shirt bunched up nearly to his armpits, his hair all in his face, and his eyes wide and dazed. Butters couldn't decide if he felt relieved or disappointed when Clyde sat up, smiling ruefully down at him.

"I'm _so _sorry cutie-pie, but I don't think we'll be getting down n' dirty tonight," Clyde murmured, running his eyes over Butters as if he were a _work of art_, "I know it's, like, an _American tradition_ to do it in a car, but the _logistics _just don't make for a very comfortable experience." Clyde grinned. "Plus, even if Kenny kept lube in his car - which he probably _does_, knowing that jerk - we'd have to make this pretty quick and...well, _screw _all that."

Clyde pressed a kiss to Butters's navel, and _again _he shuddered as Clyde ran his tongue all along his abdomen. "_Sweet_ happy trail there, dude." Clyde breathed against his skin, admiring the line of soft blonde hair on his stomach. "You're so fucking _beautiful. _There, I said it. I wanna take my time with you. I wanna go all night, someplace better than the back of a car."

Clyde glances up at him then, and the look in his eyes is _smoldering. _It makes Butters's mouth go dry. He isn't sure when he lost control of this situation, if he ever had any to _begin _with. He can't seem to form a single _coherent _thought, and when Clyde nudges him up so that Butters is sitting with his back against the Mustang's door, he almost feels as if he's dreaming. Clyde began toying with the simple buckle on the belt keeping his pants up, grinning wickedly.

"I _knew _it!" Clyde said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "Damn, dude. I don't know about _you_, but sucking you off would be the _perfect _end to my night."

Butters jerks, _stunned, _while his dick twitches eagerly, as if to say,_ "Why, by all means, do go on…"_

"C-C-C-Clyde -" Butters stammers, and that's the _last _thing he needs right now, but once he starts it's hard to stop, "I-I-I…you..."

But Clyde is humming as he unbuckles Butters's belt, and after a pause to consider, leans in to grip the zipper with his teeth. Getting it down is a little trickier than it looks, and Clyde is laughing by the time he manages it, sounding so _happy, _as if there's no place he'd rather be and nothing he'd rather be doing right now. Butters's eyes blur with tears, because even now there's a part of him whispering to just close his eyes and pretend it's Kenny while Clyde obliviously blows him, and he knows he _can't _do that, _can't _pretend anymore. He shouldn't have tried in the _first _goddamn place, and the fact that he _knew _it was wrong and did it _anyway _just proved that he was really a horrible person.

He wasn't _any _of those nice things Clyde had said. He was _nothing_. He deserved _nothing_.

Clyde was palming him through his now-open fly, his touch tender and absolutely _electric_, but Butters frantically shoved him off and began scrambling for purchase against the car door, trying to pull himself up, trying to get _away_.

"_Butters_?" Clyde said, sounding alarmed, just as Butters finally found a handheld and _yanked_. It turned out to be the Mustang's old-fashioned latch-handle, which would have been _fine_, had the door been _locked_.

But it wasn't.

The 'Stang flew open _violently _behind him, and Butters flew with it, flailing wildly. It all happened so _fast _Butters didn't even have time to yell before he fell out of the car and cracked his head on one of the rocks in the decorative garden below. A sudden spike of _agony _closed on him like the jaws of a steel trap, followed by darkness, until nothing existed for him at all anymore.

"_Butters_!" Clyde shouted, horrified. Kenny's car was making that annoying _ding-ding-ding_ noise that signified a door had been opened. Clyde scrambled out of the vehicle and knelt beside Butters, feeling sick to his stomach, as the sound continued tauntingly behind him.

_Ding-ding-ding-ding…_

"Oh Jesus, oh..._fuck_. Fuck _me_," Clyde whispered haltingly, shaking. Clyde had no idea why Butters had been trying to get away from him so badly, but he'd accidentally fallen right out of the car and now lay sprawled in an unresponsive heap. Clyde started to reach for him, wanting to prop him up, but Butters suddenly opened his eyes and let out a low, pain-filled groan. The fall had been hard enough to knock him out for a second or two, but it seemed like he would be okay. Clyde breathed a sigh of relief as Butters groaned again, even smiled reassuringly down at the boy, but that smile turned into a _grimace _when Clyde saw the blood.

Oh God...Butters was bleeding _so much. _

"Jesus _Christ..._" Clyde sobbed, pressing a violently shaking hand to side of Butters's head, where the blood seemed to be pouring from. His hand was immediately soaked in the hot, sticky fluid, but nothing actually seemed to be _broken _at least. Butters whimpered when he saw the blood for himself, and he could probably feel it now, too. A gash had opened up along his scalp, freely pouring blood, and for a moment neither of them seemed to know what to do. Butters's head was _throbbing _and his vision was swimming, and he could hear Clyde freaking out beside him.

"Fuckfuckfuck_fuck!_" Clyde hissed incoherently, before blurting out, "I'm _so sorry_, Butters!"

It _wasn't _Clyde's fault, and Butters started to tell him so, but his head was hurting _badly _and Clyde was freaking out so much he probably wouldn't have heard him anyway.

"Don't worry, Butters," Clyde said, gathering Butters in his arms, "don't worry, baby. I'll call for help, we'll get you to a _hospital _-"

A _hospital_. The word made Butters's blood run cold. He gripped Clyde's arm with desperate strength, his aquamarine eyes filled with pleading and a great deal of pain. "No, Clyde! You _can't_!"

"Butters, you're bleeding _really bad_ right now!" Clyde bawled, as if Butters didn't already know this. "I'm _calling _for help and you're _going _to fucking hospital!"

"Please!" Butters sobbed, as Clyde scooped him up without the slightest bit of effort, his voice high and hysterical, "Please, Clyde! _Don't! PLEASE! _If my parents find out -"

"I think your parents would want _your fucking scalp_ sewed back up, dude!" Clyde snaps, sounding almost as hysterical as Butters did. The bleeding hadn't stopped or slowed, and Butters's shirt was _damp _with it, while his face had gone ashen. Butters didn't seem to hear him at all. He was _crying_ weakly, clutching at Clyde, shaking his head. "Baby," Clyde whispered, desperate. "I don't know what to do...you're _hurt_, you have to go to a _hospital…_"

"_If my parents find out they'll hurt me worse than this_!" Butters finally screamed, and it was as if a floodgate had been opened. Suddenly Butters was crying so hard he _shook _with it, burying his face into Clyde's shirt, muttering, "Please, please, _please…_" over and over again.

_Oh, God._ Clyde held the blonde-haired boy as tightly as he dared, feeling _lost_, feeling as if someone had just reached inside and _carved him up_. "It's okay, baby..." Clyde said finally, his voice raw and rough. "It's _okay_. I won't take take you to a hospital…" _But you still need fucking help, and I still don't know what to do. _"I…"

Clyde glanced in the direction of the house, but he knew if he took Butters inside all hell would break loose. Token - sensible, _dependable _Token - would do _exactly_ what Butters didn't want, and that's take him straight to the nearest emergency room, where the good health-care providers would call his _parents_. But what else could he _do_?! Clyde clenched his teeth. His heart was slamming fast and hard in his chest, and he was trying _very _hard to ignore the persistent nauseous feeling in his belly. Clyde had never felt so scared, helpless and stupid since his Mom had died. _Butters…_

Then, _miraculously_, an idea came to him. Clyde didn't bother thinking it over. It wasn't a very _good _idea, but it was the only one he had.

Clyde turned back to the car, carrying Butters in his arms. He gently tucked the boy into the vehicle, closed the door, and raced around to the driver's side. Clyde couldn't count how many times he'd begged Kenny to let him drive this bad boy, only to be turned down. Kenny was _crazy _about this damn thing. He couldn't say he felt particularly good about having to drive it now; it was really funny how things worked out. Clyde rooted around under the seat until he found Kenny's spare key. He'd once asked his friend why he kept a spare in his _car_, and Kenny had given him this dead-serious look and told him that he kept a spare under the seat so he wouldn't have to worry about it in case he _died_. Clyde had laughed his off, sputtering, "Dude, you're so fucking _weird_!"

Clyde shoved the key into the ignition and started the car with a rumble. Butters was holding his bleeding head, watching him with big, scared aquamarine eyes. Clyde reached down, picked Kenny's orange parka off the floor of the passenger side, and handed it to Butters briskly.

"Wrap this around your head." Clyde ordered. Butters accepted the parka reluctantly, but he did as he was told.

"Clyde…" Butters whispered.

"Hang on, cutie-pie." Clyde said, reaching for the stick shift. Honestly, fucking _stick shift_…

"_Fuck_ your old-timey bulltshit right in its rusted metal _ass_, McCormick!" Clyde hissed angrily under his breath. For a moment it looked as if they wouldn't be going anywhere, but Clyde was resolute. If he could suck dick, then he could drive stick.

"Clyde?" Butters said again, sounding faint. "Where…?"

"Craig's house." Clyde replied shortly, and then he slammed his foot down on the accelerator.

* * *

"Dude, c'mon…" Kenny whined, bouncing up and down. "Stop being such a _dick _and let them have their alone time!"

Clyde and Butters had been gone for almost half an hour. Kenny wasn't sure where they had run off to, but he had a pretty good idea of what they might be doing, and the thought made him grin. He _sincerely _hoped Clyde was finally putting that big mouth of his to good use. Hell, he hoped they were _both _having the time of their lives. Butters had always seemed so very lonely, and Clyde had never been able to catch a break when it came to love, suffering one rough romantic blowback after another.

Kenny only hoped Clyde wouldn't be too stingy with the _details_, but Kevin Stoley clearly did not share in his enthusiasm. The boy had been a ball of angry nerves, one Kenny had been trying to soothe, to no avail. He and Kevin were practically strangers, but Kenny knew enough about the boy to know they had absolutely _nothing _in common and probably never would. Kevin had been dead-set on looking for them after just five minutes, so Kenny, being the great wingman that he was, had stalled him. What had followed was probably the stiffest, most _awkward _conversation of Kenny's life. Kevin clearly didn't like him much for reasons entirely unknown to him, and he was _dry _and _sarcastic _as hell.

Kenny had been tempted to ask Kevin what had crawled up his ass and _died_. He had honestly never met someone so uptight, except maybe _Kyle Broflovski_, and only then when Kyle was in a bad mood. Not so very long ago, Kenny probably would have told the guy to fuck off, fuck _him_, or some combination of the two. He was turning over a new leaf these days, though. When his parents had finally lit the dynamite on the last shitty shreds of their lives, the realization had hit Kenny like an anvil dropped from a five-story building that he wouldn't have anyone to _blame _anymore, no fingers to point to, no doorstep to lay all his problems on and set fire to them like a bag of dog poop. Stuart and Carol had always been horrible fucking parents, but they had always been _there_, like the world's most fucked-up easy targets.

Then, just like that, they were gone. Stuart in prison, Carol lost to the meth. Whenever Kenny had messed up in school or disappeared for days snorting coke and fucking strangers, he used to say he could clean up any time, if only his parents weren't there bringing him down. They were _his _easy targets, his excuse for all his fucked-up behavior, and suddenly they were _gone_.

It was as if as God Himself had called his bluff and said, "_Now_ what, motherfucker."

Needless to say, Kenny wasn't used to having his bluffs called. _Ain't it fun living in the real world? Ain't it good being all alone? _For a while, Kenny had done nothing but wallow in the hole he'd dug for himself. When he got tired of doing that, he'd decided to finally - _finally _- get it together.

It had taken a while, admittedly. Karen had been a huge help in that area, and all his friends in their own ways. Stan and Kyle, even Cartman on occasion. Craig, Tweek, Token. Clyde and his _cool _Dad, who had never turned him away, even though he was an _obvious_ hot mess. Kenny wasn't sure if it was because Roger Donovan was just that _nice _or because Clyde had convinced him, but either way he'd always be grateful.

If kicking all his old drug habits had been tough, looking deep inside to address his personality flaws had been even tougher. Kenny had never been one for self-examination or deep reflection, but he liked to think he was much nicer now. _Calmer_. In some ways, he would always be a trailer-trash punk (couldn't go turning into _Gary Harrison_, now) but he had _definitely _matured, and all his friends (even the teachers who used to give the _dirtiest _looks) had noticed.

"Kenny, I'm proud of you." Bebe had told him earlier this evening, sliding up after dancing with Butters. "You've _really _made a change for the better."

It was one of the _many _things Kenny liked about Bebe. She was always so good about giving compliments. Bebe had smiled then, looking mischievous. "I can _actually _afford to be seen with you in public, now!"

"Thanks." Kenny had replied, grinning. "Nice tits, by the way."

Bebe had scowled so fiercely Kenny thought she was going to _hit _him. Hey, he was a _work in progress_, alright?!

"Dude, don't be such a killjoy. I'm sure they'll be back _any minute_," Kenny insisted, trailing after Kevin to the pool house, "just chill out, okay?"

Kevin ignored him. He was _very _good at doing that, Kenny had discovered, when he wasn't sniping down every little thing he said. Objectively, he thought Kevin was pretty cute, with his jet-black hair, lean build and dark sienna-colored eyes. Had a nice ass, too. It was too bad the boy seemed utterly immune to his charms. The last person who had treated him so coldly had been _Wendy Testaburger_. That girl had always been _choice_, and completely out of his grasp for various sad reasons. Sad for Kenny, at least.

Kevin looked all around the pool house and cursed under his breath. He had already checked out the guest rooms in Token's place, and now seemed at a bit of a loss, frustrated and angry.

"Where the hell _are _they?!" Kevin demanded, throwing his hands up. "Damn it, Butters, you and I are going to have a _very _long talk!"

Kenny laughed as Kevin began walking toward the rear gardens, where he'd parked his precious car. "What's the big deal?"

"What's the big _deal_?!" Kevin cried, rounding on him with his eyes flinging fire, "Butters is my _friend_, and he's _completely _compromised!"

"He wasn't _that _drunk…" Kenny murmured, even though that was a bald-faced lie. Butters had been _sooo _drunk.

"And Clyde has a _curfew_. His father wants him home by ten!"

"_Ten_? Damn Clyde, that's _lame_." Kenny chuckled, as Kevin's expression tightened.

"I'll have _you _know that I also have a curfew to abide by! Not all of us were raised in the grand tradition of _drunken malcontents_."

Kenny blinked at that. It was true enough, he'd never had a curfew. He used to stay out until three o'clock in the morning at _twelve_. Kenny sometimes forgot his friends had grown up with actual _rules_.

"This was such a bad idea," Kevin mumbled to himself as he walked through the gardens, "why Butters had to get drunk to go talk to you I have _no idea_ -"

"Eh? Butters got drunk to talk to _me_?" Kenny cocked his head, smiling a little. "Dude, _why_?"

Stoley didn't say anything, just sort of gave Kenny a _look_, but before Kenny could think to question it his car suddenly came flying around a corner.

"The _fuck_? THE FUCK?!" Kenny cried, watching as Clyde, _Clyde Donovan_, his _friend_, drove his baby out of the garden and back onto the road, where he pulled a wicked U-turn (Kenny _winced _at the squealing of tires) and took off like _demons _were on his ass.

"Was that _Clyde_?" Kevin asked, sounded shocked. "Was that your _car? _Did he just…" Kevin's face contorted with rage and confusion. "...did he just _abandon _me here?!"

Kenny was so pissed off he was actually seeing _red_. "He_ stole my car_!"

Kevin backed off, looking wary. "Kenneth -"

"HE STOLE. MY FUCKING. _CAAARRR_!"

* * *

As much as Tweak loved sex with Craig, he really adored everything that came afterward.

Once Craig had licked every little bit of cum off Tweak's stomach, once he had loosened the ties around his wrists and tenderly kissed every red mark he'd left on his body, only _then _would he settle down, wrapping himself around Tweak like a warm blanket. Sharing Craig's bed, lying so close they seemed to share a single heartbeat...it was one of the few places where Tweak felt completely at ease. Craig was already asleep, his breathing deep and even. Tucker always knocked_ right out_ after they had sex, as if the effort of of trying not to come first exhausted him. Tweak thought that was cute.

He snuggled close and focused on trying to shut his brain off, which had always been _hard _for him, even after mind-blowing sex. Tweak was always going a mile a minute, his ticks and fidgets just a manifestation of a brain that always seemed to be on _hyperdrive_. Counting Craig's breaths always helped, though. One, two, three...

_Oh God, did I remember to lock up the shop?!_

...four, five, six…

_Craig really wants me to top next time...ARG, I can't do that! That's too much pressure, what if I get stuck?!_

...seven, eight, nine. Finally, Tweak could feel himself starting to drift off, his hyperactive brain slowing down and growing fuzzy with sleep.

"I love you, Craig." Tweak mumbled, because he couldn't go to sleep until he _said _that, even if Craig never heard him. He yawned, closed his eyes, and -

-and Craig's phone suddenly rang. Tweak blinked, the sparse beeping sound jerking him out of his doze. He rolled over and reached for the buzzing device while Craig growled warningly, trying to keep Tweak close.

"Ignore it."

Tweak already had Craig's phone in his hand, though, peeking down at the name. "Whoa! Clyde?"

_Clyde?_ The name was enough to get Craig to open his eyes, frowning a little in the darkness. Why the hell was Clyde calling him _now_, after he hadn't called in months? Craig sat up a little, glaring at the phone as it continued to ring. Tweak was staring at him expectantly, but Craig just sighed and shook his head, and the phone eventually stopped buzzing.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Craig said, shrugging a little. "Knowing Clyde, that was probably just a butt-dial."

His phone began ringing again.

"Uh, it's Clyde…" Tweak said, nervously holding Craig's phone out to him. Craig stared at it with a growing feeling of dread.

"I'll call him back tomorrow."

"W-what if it's something _important_?" Tweak asked, as the phone stopped buzzing once again. Two missed calls.

"Tweak. You _know _Clyde is the king of unimportant," Craig murmured, running his hands gently along the side of his boyfriend's face, "he used to call us up every Wednesday crying about _Supernatural_."

"Dean and Sam Winchester do sound pretty sad…" Tweak mumbled to himself. "Still, maybe you better -"

Craig's phone rang again.

"Fuck!" Craig snarled, reaching for the phone.

* * *

"Fuck you, Craig! ANSWER!" Clyde yelled into his phone, listening to the maddening ringing.

Butters had wrapped Kenny's orange parka around his head, but it was soaked with blood and he seemed to have fallen into unresponsiveness again. Clyde drove a little faster, roaring down South Park's mostly empty streets toward Craig's house. After what seemed like an eternity, Craig finally picked up his phone, his voice harsh with annoyance.

"Hello?"

"Craig!" Clyde had never been so happy to hear that asshole's voice. "Listen, I'm in big fucking trouble here, dude! I'm coming to your house!"

"_What_?! No!"

"It's Butters, dude! He's hurt bad!"

"Well, don't bring him _here_! I'm not even fucking joking with you, Clyde!" Craig yelled back.

Clyde glanced at Butters, slumped in the passenger seat. "No choice!"

"What the fuck even _happened_?!"

"Dude, it's a long fucking story," Clyde sobbed, shaking so hard he nearly dropped his phone. "He needs help!"

"Well, bite the fucking bullet and take him to a _hospital_! Get your Dad to call you a lawyer!"

"I _can't_!"

"This is not my fucking problem, man!" Craig shouted, so loud it hurt Clyde's ears. "You fucked him up, you fucking deal with this!"

Suddenly there was a scuffling sound, as if the phone was changing hands, and Tweak was on the line, sounding _panicked_.

"Are you on a cell phone?!" Tweak squeaked. "I don't know you, who is this?! Don't come here! _Arg_, I'm hanging up the phone! _Gah_! PRANK CALLER, PRANK CALLER!"

The line went dead, but it didn't matter. Clyde had already arrived at Craig's house. He pulled up with a squeal of tires, taking out the Tucker's mailbox with a _BANG_! He didn't see either of Craig's parents' cars in the driveway. Thank _God _they both worked nights.

Upstairs, Ruby Tucker shot out bed with a screech of pure rage. It was bad enough she had to listen to her brother and her brother's _twitch-bitch _boyfriend banging each other out every weekend, but tomorrow was a school day and she just wanted to get some _sleep_. Ruby threw off her covers and got out of bed, fuming.

"I'm _trying _to sleep, you_ fucking assholes_!" She shrieked, kicking open her door. "What the hell is going on?!"

Craig and Tweek were already racing downstairs, Craig wearing his sweatpants, while Tweak struggled into a pair of Craig's boxers. Ruby followed them. She had been dying to plant her foot _firmly _up someone's backside all day. Ruby reached the living room just as Craig was opening the front door, _livid_.

"Clyde, are you _out of your fucking mind_?" Craig demanded, but when he saw his friend hurrying toward him with Butters in his arms, he drew back in shock. "_Jesus_, dude."

Ruby elbowed her way past her brother, inquisitive. "Who -" She began, and then squealed in disgust. "Fucking _hell_, Clyde! Well, don't just stand there, you dickheads! I'll get the shovels, someone grab a hacksaw. Maybe if we work together, we can get this kid buried in the backyard and nobody'll know!"


End file.
